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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286465">Dark Paradise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomPunk/pseuds/venomPunk'>venomPunk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Partner Betrayal, Post-Movie, Pre-Movie, Self-Doubt, believer!Nicky, kaysanova!Joe, sadass!Andy, selfishpieceofshit!Booker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:22:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>31,001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomPunk/pseuds/venomPunk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Immortal life also brings the problems that mortals suffer- betrayal, pain, separation. The fatigue that strikes Andy can break a bonds of many.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe/ Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*"No one compares to you, <br/>I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side."<br/>                                                                                                           Lana Del Rey</p><p> </p><p>* The second half is basically the plot of the movie, just in Nicky´s and Joe´s POV enriched with some private experiences.</p><p>* I tried. Be nice.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Ydra Island, Greece</b> </p><p>
  <em> One year ago </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Gloomy evening, end of March, most holiday homes and hotels on this island are empty. Dimmed lights were on only in one of them – forlorn villa on the hill, hidden in overgrown olive grove. Dry leaves rustled in the wind.</p><p>They arrived less than two hours ago - tired, cold and dirty, in the clothes they had dressed on almost three weeks ago. The only thing that could be done with it was to burn. Booker picked up a pile of sweaty and blood-stained shirts and trousers from front of the bathroom door and carried it behind the house. The smell was amazingly disgusting. He'll take care of it tomorrow, he's had enough for today.</p><p>The house was empty except a few necessities, such as a kitchenette and a couple of beds with clean blankets. In the basement, which no one knew about, there were weapons and equipment, but definitely nothing that would make the stay more pleasant.</p><p>Nicky began with his ritual - he stood by the stove and pretended everything was fine. He thought of nothing, but the pasta bubbling on the fire, the slicing of cheese, and the preparation of vegetables.</p><p>Joe came out of the shower, water still dripping from his wet curly hair and he joined the others in the kitchen. He was wearing a gray old T-shirt that smelled of mold - just like the Nicky ´s shirt. The clothes they were hiding in the basement were wrapped in a plastic bag, but the mice bit it and what they didn't destroy was almost useless. Almost.</p><p>They sat around a shabby massive table, dimly lit by an unshaded light bulb. It reminded Nicky not so recent war times. He divided the content of the casserole into four plates and served it. It was nothing special, but it would fill their stomachs until they went to bed. Food was one of the few things that had deteriorated over the ages. Sometimes he thought painfully about the taste of honey as he had once known it. Or fruit, tasty and juicy, straight from the tree. He rarely got it in these days. A bottle of cheap Retsina was already on the table. Later in the evening, Booker will pull an <em>ouzo</em> out of nowhere to get seriously drunk. Maybe Nicky will join him this time.</p><p>They ate in silence, only the tingling of cutlery and swallowing could be heard. No one was talking, as they always did, when they knew they had jumped straight into some war that had no winners, only losers. They had spent more than half a year in the eastern Mediterranean, helping refugees who had paid their last money to smugglers, and they had mostly left them in the mountains at the first border or sent them to sea in a ship that would sink in a deeper puddle. Nicky drowned three times trying to save at least the children. This is not a pleasant death, and it reminded everyone of Quynh's fate. Andy first suggested they catch smugglers, but it was like picking up a bowl of lentils that someone spilled into the ashes. There were always new ones, no matter how much of them were neutralized or killed. When the crisis peaked, they knew ´clients´ were choosed directly in the refugee camps. They infiltrated - Andy, Nicky and Booker as members of <em>Médecins Sans Frontières</em>, Joe directly among the people who could have been his distant relatives. But they couldn't be everywhere - and that was incredibly frustrating. It was as if everyone was drowning and the ubiquitous human misery began to fall on them. When the winter was over, they were at the end with their strength and will. So they went here - to one of the safe houses to rest and decide what to do next.</p><p>After dinner, they finally relaxed a little - the feeling was almost palpable. Only the wrinkle between Andy's eyebrows did not disappear.</p><p>"So…what do we do next, boss?" Booker finally ventured, pouring wine for her into a empty jar of olives. Real cups were an wasteful luxury in this house.</p><p>At first she didn't answer, took the glass and drank. She looked straight ahead, at a table with four empty plates. A drop fell on her chin. She wiped it with the opposite of her hand.</p><p>" It´s over. I quit."</p><p>They were silent, exchanging dark glances.</p><p>“The Union does not want to be further involved. We're out of money since last Tuesday.”</p><p>Nicky looked at Joe, then at Booker, and finally at his commander again.</p><p>"How's that - why didn't you say anything? Maybe there's someone else who… ”</p><p>"No," she replied sharply, but she didn't look directly at him. She closed her eyes.</p><p>“Everyone is tired of it," she continued. "Just like us. Nobody cares anymore. People in Germany and France will no longer welcome anyone with open arms. I'm not even talking about Eastern Europe.”</p><p>"But - what will happen to them?” Joe asked, determined not to accept the situation.</p><p>"It's none of our business anymore."</p><p>Joe fell silent, but you could see how it annoyed him. Nicky covered Joe´s hand with his palm, but he got up from his chair and walked around the room. It seemed as if he preferred to run out of there and never return.</p><p>"Is there anything we can do, Andy?" Nicky asked more amicably. "Besides - do we have another mission?" he turned to Booker, who was mostly looking for business for them. Frenchman pressed his lips.</p><p>"Nothing worth talking about. Besides, it seems to me that too many people know about us. ”</p><p>Andy nodded - apparently they were already discussing it. </p><p>“We should save the money and withdraw for a while. …” she sighed and looked out the open window, into the night. The rustling of leaves in the olive grove could be heard, and the sea, a mile away. Except for that, there was silence everywhere..</p><p>"I am leaving tomorrow. I don't want you to look for me, but use the usual path in case of emergency. ”</p><p>Joe stopped pacing the kitchen. " How´s that- <em> leaving </em>?"</p><p>"I need to be alone for a while, Joe. That is all. You can do whatever you want - even to save refugees." She tried not to sound sarcastic, but in recent months their mission had taken on a very bitter taste. With that, she got up from the table and went to bed. For her, that was the end of the discussion.</p><p>Booker shook his head, also got up and grabbed a bottle of wine from the table. He went outside to finish it. They knew that the time each had spent alone had been the worst for him. </p><p>Joe and Nicky were left alone in the kitchen.</p><p>Nicky, as always when he had nothing to do, started cleaning. He stacked the plates in the sink, but before he could scrub them, Joe grabbed his wrist.</p><p>"Come to bed," he asked in a hoarse voice. Nothing more. Sometimes that was enough. </p><p> </p><p>They preferred the only room upstairs. There was a double bed with an old straw mat and linen blankets. Joe took the plastic that was covering the bed and ripped it off. Dust swirled in the darkness. He crouched the plastic and threw it in the corner. If what´s Andy said true, they probably won't be here long and will need it again soon.</p><p>Nicky watched his brisk movements, knowing Joe was upset, tired, exhausted. He understood that. Joe, though reluctant to reveal it, was sensitive. A romantic dreamer whose iniquities drove out of peace. He mostly dealt with it with humor, or some well-aimed stab. </p><p>Their last action, which stretched to infinity and proved to be hopeless, was the last in a series of seemingly bearable but exhausting missions. However, this one could break his neck - it strummed on a sensitive string, it was <em>his people</em>, although they were a thousand years apart, he still had a weakness for them. Nicky understood that well - there were many wars and misfortunes in the world, you could not avoid returns to where you were born, from time to time, and found that the place had become a battle zone.</p><p>He remembered well the days when in Genoa plague epidemic raged- Joe and Andy did not hesitate and went with him. They walked with him through the streets where the dead lay, and plague doctors with their beaks stuffed with dried herbs on their faces walked through the city like the last ghosts. Nicky felt the same way as Joe did now — a sense of futility and a missed opportunity, the inability to do anything about it, and the knowledge that it needed to be endured until it took time to heal. It was an unwritten duty to go with their fellows where they were needed.</p><p>Joe took a step toward him and the floor creaked. He gripped the edge of Nicky's T-shirt and rested his forehead on Nicky´s. Joe´s skin was hot and sweating, though it was barely fifteen degrees outside, and it was not much warmer in the house. He was breathing deeply.</p><p>" Help me forget, <em> habibi… </em> please," he asked hoarsely.</p><p>“<em>Volentieri, Yusuf</em> ...," Nicky whispered, kissing him softly. He led Joe to the bed, with all the dexterity he had learned in a thousand years, with all the tenderness he possessed.</p><p>Four months ago, it was another ten years that they had spent together continuously. At that time, they were lying next to each other on uncomfortable loungers, rain drumming on the roof of the military tent, and when Nicky reminded it, they were too tired to exchange even a kiss. They just gently touched their hands and fell asleep in a few minutes. The next day was too busy for them to come back to, so neither of them mentioned it again.</p><p>Not that it would be an exceptional anniversary. When they met, then — from the moment Joe raised his round shield to protect Nicky, instead of stabbing him with his scimitar, as he had dozens of times before — they had spent fifty years together. One whole human life. Those were happy years. They weren't tired of immortality yet, it seemed to them as if they were in heaven ... fighting side by side, struggling in the world with a love that will never leave you, grow old or die. To mortals, this would seem like the pinnacle of bliss. But even the immortals are not resistant to boredom and fatigue from everyday life. These damnations also hit them and they separated for a time, tired of being present to each other, to roam the world on their own. Despite the unnaturally long life - they were just people. Sinful and weak. Their mutual love was tainted by a kind of unspeakable sorrow that had never been described by anyone because no man had lived in it before. However, it was one of the few certainties they had in this world.</p><p>Joe fell back on the bed and pulled Nicky with him. He whispered that sweet arabic words, as he always did when he was in trance while Nicky was taking care of his pants. He took Joe´s cock and caressed it until  head of his lover fell on a pillow stuffed with sheep wool. He watched as his eyelids closed and his fingers dug into the blanket, while his bearded clenched jaw finally came loose. It won't take long. Nicky bent down to take him in his mouth and inhaled the musky scent of his curly black hair.<br/><br/>“Nicolò,” whispered Joe into the darkness, clenching his fingers in crusaders hair.</p><p>Nick didn't stop until he felt Joe was almost on the edge, until this man was completely shaking. Then he dropped excess saliva into his palm, rose above his eternal lover, and held both of their cocks in his hand. Joe gritted his teeth as he began to stroke them, firmly and excruciatingly slow. Meanwhile, Nicky's mouth was on his throat, whose tan had never faded, even in the coldest winter. He sped up, eager for his own climax, but Joe was first - Nicky felt his cumshot wet his stomach and chest. As he raised his head, he saw a single tear of relief escaping Joe's eye and disappearing into the black curls on his temple. That's when Nicky came too, and there was all the strength and grief of the past weeks in it.</p><p>They lay on the bed, listening to the sound of the remote sea waves, Booker's footsteps in the garden, and the shattered glass as he tossed an empty bottle into the orchard, the slam of the kitchen door when he finally decided to go to bed.</p><p>Joe lay on his back, staring at the ceiling while Nicky watched him lying on his stomach.</p><p>"Do you think I'm exaggerating?" Joe asked into the darkness. His voice was no longer so tense.</p><p>" Occasionally. But I get it - we get it. Everyone's been through this at least once, remember? And at least once everyone came across something that couldn't be managed ... we should have seen the hopelessness of that business at the beginning. But none of us had any experience with that exactly,” Nicky replied, shrugging his bare shoulder.</p><p>Joe suddenly turned his head.</p><p>"So it's my fault?" He sat down and threw his feet down from the bed. "Did you go there <em> just </em> for me?"</p><p>Nicky rose on his elbow and carefully touched Joe´s back. " I did not mean it like that. <em> Yusuf </em>... ”</p><p>Joe sighed, shook his head, then lowered it between his shoulders.</p><p>"I'm just sorry that in a few months it will be full of holidaymakers and everyone won't care what happens a few kilometers east of their white asses ..."</p><p>Nicky's mouth tightened into a thin line. He had learned not to take it personally. In a thousand years many things would accumulate in a man - Joe didn't cope with how the Arab world had fallen into war and misery during that time, while the West had flourished. Nicky knew it was nonsense that he shouldn't relate as a home to any place in the world, but sometimes he couldn't help himself too. Humanity as such was sometimes tiring ... and he was tired of society as a whole.</p><p>"Andy's probably right," Nicky replied cautiously after a moment.</p><p>"What?" Joe turned to him, his face silvered by the moonlight.</p><p>“She's right. We can´t handle this, we argue ... we should spend some time alone. ”</p><p>Joe's eyebrows smoothed as he realized what Nicky was asking for.</p><p>"Are you leaving me? Now?"<br/><br/>Nicky hoped his expression showed how painful the decision was because the words weren't enough.</p><p>"It will be better, at least for a while ..."</p><p>Joe took his pants off the floor and put them on.</p><p>"Yusuf, come on-"</p><p>"You're right, and better if we start now," Joe said, pulling the blanket off the bed and walking out the door.</p><p>Nicky dropped his head wearily on the pillow. Sometimes he couldn't stop the catastrophe, no matter how hard he tried. There was simply coming one of those periods that appeared in every life -whether this life lasted thirty or three thousand years. Disagreements creep in between friends, lovers become estranged ... he was lucky it was never forever to him. At least for now. He thanked God for it every day, and all he asked was for death to find him at the same hour as it find Joe. Spending ages on earth without him would be real suffering. He couldn't even imagine how Andy was feeling or what Booker was going through, his grief for family still so fresh. Joe is angry with him now, and even if it should take a century, he would know that he didn't lose him, that Joe didn't go somewhere he couldn't follow him.</p><p>The time of fasting is coming, the time of seclusion. Nicky was once a good Christian, he can handle it. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Lake Tekapo, Canterbury County, New Zealand </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Joe got out of bed before five in the morning, made strong black tea and poured it into a tin cup.<b> I</b>t was July, but here in New Zealand it meant winter - feed and hay were safely hidden in granaries and barns, and eagerly awaited when the lambs began to be born.</p><p>He came here a few months ago - he didn't think much about it either, he just thought he should get as far away from Europe as possible. Nicky was right, after all. As always, that bastard. Already on his twenty-hour flight to Australia, Joe felt a tension peel off from him. He hadn't even realized before. As they said goodbye to each other, he gritted his teeth and hugged Nicky, knowing that if he hadn't done so, it would bothered him until their next meeting. </p><p>He arrived here, at the end of the world - on a small farm near Lake Tekapo in Canterbury County. The water reflected the distant, snow-capped peaks of the mountains, the pastures were covered with sheep, and there was essentially a deserted, but green land – what a paradise on earth. Joe had good references (he was very creative in fabricating them) and he had experience with stock-raising - at the time he was growing up, everyone had goats and sheep.. He was hired for the roof over his head, food and little money enough for him. He needed a different stereotype than that he would die every day and take with him as many fuckers as he could. Getting up early, caring for the animals, and falling asleep in the evening, it was like a balm for wounds he had sustained in recent months.</p><p>He took a cup of tea and went out in front of the small cabin he lived in. There were about ten similar ones, but they were empty - part-time workers won´t come until the time of sheep-shearing, or during the harvest. He sat on the doorstep and watched how the light of the rising sun fall into the valley, drinking tea and thinking of <em>nothing .</em>Peace spread in his soul. He missed Nicky sometimes, especially in the evening when he lay down in a cold bed, he missed Nicky´s kind smile and how his eyes lit up when he is going to say something smart…but the grief of separation was easily driven away by hard work, or - when the memories were truly unrelenting, he touched himself and whispered Nicky's name in the dark.</p><p>He noticed that a figure in a red jacket was rushing up the slope from the main farm buildings - Jessica, the owners' daughter. Apparently something happened, he finished the rest of his tea and went inside for his jacket so they could leave immediately. When he came out again, girl was almost at the cottage. Her blond hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, her face red from running, so it matched her jacket.</p><p>"What's going on, Jess?"</p><p>"Little Sue is beginning to give birth, come quickly-" she sobbed, pulling him down the sidewalk.</p><p>They had a few cows on the farm, which covered just the milk consumption of household members and sometimes increased something for sale. Joe was in a hurry - Little Sue was a young cow, it was supposed to be her first calf, and he knew that Mr. Wright had already left to bring a vet, but they probably wouldn't arrive on time.</p><p>They burst into the barn, where it was pleasantly warm after the night and it smelled there - <em> as if in the barn. </em></p><p>He went straight to Sue's box, where the animal was moo-ing miserably. The other members of the household gathered around her - Mrs. Wright, John - Jessica's older brother and Penelope, a housekeeper.</p><p>Joe saw at first glance that something was wrong - he reached for the lying Sue and guessed quite accurately what was going on - the calf was turned badly, which meant that either it would probably cost his or his mother's life. It would have to be a miracle for both to survive. Joe exchanged glances with Mrs. Wright, who immediately understood - the older lady had seen many lives come into this world, but she had seen many of them leave.</p><p>He knelt beside the cow and stroked her bulging belly soothingly before reaching into her.  His forearms was poured with warm juices, he felt a heart beating inside - one? Not – they were two rhythms, the calf is still alive. He once learned a trick from his uncle that saved many goats - he knew when to pull to get the cub out, preferably without injury. He had to use all his strength and dexterity, but he knew that he probably couldn't do it alone.</p><p>"John, help me - quickly."</p><p>John Wright knelt beside him and put his hands where Joe had shown him to push at the right moment.</p><p>It wasn't as bad as it initially looked - Sue was roaring, but she managed to squeeze the calf out of her body without tearing her internal organs - with the generous help of Joe and John, of course.</p><p>Just a minute later, Joe was sitting on the floor, holding alive and healthy calf in his arms, both of blood. Jessica stood up, John and Mrs. Wright laughed. Penelope seemed to faint at any moment.</p><p>“Well done, Joe!”</p><p>At that minute, Mr. Wright's range rover was already stopping in the yard, and then the old man appeared in the doorway with Dr. Hickman.</p><p>"Robert, you're here - help Joe, he did it himself, look," Mrs. Wright waved.</p><p>Dr. Hickman took control of the situation. Joe stood up and looked at his dirty overalls, which had been his uniform during those months. He decided that he should take a shower - he was covered in blood, but it was a pleasant change that it happened during calving and not during massacre as usual.</p><p>"Kids, get Joe clean clothes," Mrs. Wright gave her final order and went to prepare breakfast, for which Joe was cordially invited. Jessica ran away, followed by her brother. </p><p>Joe left Dr. Hickman and Mr. Wright to treat Sue and the calf, and he went to the back of the building, where the staff showers were. In the white tiled room, he threw off his dirty clothes and stepped under the divine cleansing stream of hot water. He was already washing himself in the morning, but there was only cold water in the cottage, no joy.</p><p>It wasn't his habit to shower for long, but even at that moment, all his senses were refined to the maximum. They've tried to kill him in the bath, and not just once. He washed the lanolin soap from his hair and listened - he knew he was safe, but he also knew the risk could be low, but it was never zero. </p><p>And he knew that he was not alone in the bathroom. </p><p>He didn't hear anyone coming<b>,</b> so he turned off the shower. He suddenly heard the front door slam and fast-paced footsteps. He peeked out of a plastic curtain with a pattern of yellow ducks. A pile of clean clothes for him lay on the bench. It wasn't Jessica - the steps he heard didn't suggest it, she was petite, always scuttering like a chicken. The one who left the clothes here was a man. Joe smiled crookedly. The probability that it was John was almost certain thing.</p><p> </p><p>The mornings on the farm used to be hectic, but never so stressful. Joe usually ate only a piece of bread and sheep cheese, which he grabbed on the way to the pasture or the sheepfold. Before going into the house, he checked that the conveyors were working and that the sheep had fresh water.</p><p>The sun was already high, but it hid behind heavy, gray clouds. The house was pleasantly warm and cozy - that's what Mrs. Wright relied on. A delicious perfume of fresh bread and coffee was already in the air when Joe sat down at the kitchen table.</p><p>He usually dined here with the Wrights and Penelope, everyone on the farm worked and ate together. Only during the summer season did a large dining room open, which could accommodate twenty people.</p><p>Mrs. Wright, a round woman in her fifties, placed a plate of eggs and bacon, bread and a kettle of coffee in front of Joe.</p><p>"If you weren't here, I don't know what we would do. We lost two cows in the spring, ”she patted him on the shoulder. "Just eat, bon appetit!”</p><p>John Wright sat at the table, staring at the checkered tablecloth in front of his plate. He was also showered and wore clean clothes. His jaw was so clenched he could barely eat. Joe did not comment on his willingness to bring him clean clothes instead of Jessica.</p><p>"John helped, too," he pointed, pouring himself a cup of hot coffee.</p><p>Red spreaded over high cheekbones of the young man, he raised his eyes, and met Joe's. He raised corners of his mouth. It was a handsome boy, his wet, sandy-blond hair, just like his sister's, now fell to his forehead, his eyes hazel and friendly. But now it was hard to read something in them.</p><p>"That's true - and Johnny is usually hysterical when he sees blood," Jessica chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter, eating bread with butter and drinking hot cocoa.</p><p>“ I´m not,” muttered John, picked up a fork and began to eat. Apparently he calmed down when it turned out that Joe wouldn't comment on the incident in the shower, or better yet - with a little luck, he didn't notice it at all.</p><p>"He'll get used to it," their mother said moderately, tossing the pan into the sink and Penelope jumped.</p><p>Joe didn't have a chance to look at this family very closely, but it seemed to him that John´s parents don't like to see the his tenderness. It wasn't a boy born for hard work on the farm (and Joe thought he knew why), but he tried his best.</p><p>They finished breakfast in peace, and Joe aimed out for his duties again. It began to drizzle outside, and he feel blessed for urgency of cleaning the litter in sheepfold, so he would spend at least the whole day under the roof. </p><p>Months on the farm passed in a relieving toil. After the winter, it was necessary to start real work - the first lambs, many of which he helped to the world, were already ready for sale and before the beginning of November, sheep had their first shearing. </p><p>The cabins around Joe's were filled with part-time workers - longtime and those who took it as a new experience before they went to college. Joe was cheerful in their company, often entertained them with his stories, and soon gained the reputation of the <em> funny guy from cabin 7 </em>. Fortunately, he had lived there alone until now, but he knew that if more hands were needed on the farm, he would have to share it with someone.</p><p>The only thing that worried him was John. His parents probably didn't know he was gay yet - and maybe he was in the phase of admitting it to himself now. An exceptionally cruel phase, if Joe could say anything about it - even now he was sometimes frightened by thought of the society mood at a time when he was lied in one bed with <em> the enemy </em>. Sometimes it seemed that nothing had changed since then. He wanted to help John, but he didn't know how to do it so and not to arouse unwanted feelings in him.</p><p>He was well aware that he had been the target of stealth lookings for months, but John avoided the direct conversation as best he could. Joe also heard rumors that Mrs. Wright and Jessica were worried about him because he started drinking too much. One evening, Penelope  heard John´s father shout at him. Joe knew that the boy was going through a difficult period and he was completely alone. However, he was unable to help him. If he had learned anything in those thousand years of his life, it was a fact that not everyone could be helped — even though it was the fact he had the worst to reconcile with and the hardest to apply — their last mission proved it. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Sky was clear on this October evening, a few days before Halloween, a holiday that Joe (who knows why) still couldn't get a taste for. He had just finished his work, when Mr. Wright came to see him. Older gentleman, but still vital and sinewy from working on the farm. He inherited the whole business when he was twenty and his parents died tragically - he did not have an easy life, but he was able to get to his feet, he learned many things himself and he could be proud of his work. Joe liked similar people, radiating that kind of life satisfaction. Nicky emanate something similar, Joe always admired him for it.</p><p> "Joe, you're going up to Thomas meadow tomorrow. Sheep didn´t eat the food we hid there in the autumn and we will need the place for fresh hay. " </p><p>"Thomas meadow? Is it up there, in the mountains, right under Whitman Peak? ” </p><p>"Yes, that´s it. You'll make it by tomorrow, by Friday at the latest. I'll get you the keys, take a truck and take everything down to the valley before the shepherd and mowers goes there. " </p><p>"Of course, Mr. Wright. How much is that? I have to take one of the boys to ... "</p><p>Robert Wright pressed his wrinkled lips into a narrow line. </p><p>"John will go with you, two of you are enough."</p><p>With that, he nodded to Joe and left the barn. Joe didn't know if this old man was trying to cure the boy with hard work or if there was something else behind it. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>They left at half past four. Sky was still indigo-blue, but it was already pink on the horizon. Joe got in old green truck that looked like it had been converted from an old military vehicle — he remembered that times, when he and Nicky were in World War II, working as suppliers for a while. Silently, John sat down in the passenger seat and tossed behind him a backpack of food his mother had prepared for them. He was wearing an old denim jacket and looking annoyed, as always in recent weeks.</p><p>Joe behind the wheel headed to west around the lake - the rising sun behind them, casting bright reflections on its surface. Tekapo changed the color of the water every season. It was dark blue now with azure reflections, reminding him of Nicky's eyes. <em> Allah </em>, he haven't remembered him in a few days …Joe was surprised how much his heart ached. When he came here, he thought of Nicky every day. Strange how eternity can seem short and the year stretches to infinity...</p><p>"Joe, where are you from?" John asked suddenly. He hasn't spoken since he got in the car.</p><p>“Hm? I came here from England - I took care of the sheep there, "he replied, following the path. </p><p>"No, I mean originally."</p><p>
  <em> Ah. </em>
</p><p>"I'm from North Africa, as you have noticed," he smiled at him. In the rearview mirror, he saw the white teeth gleam under his curly beard. He should crop it. </p><p>John nodded. "You must have left from there a long time ago," he continued. </p><p>"You have no idea," Joe replied with a smile. "I'm such a world citizen now.”</p><p>He did not like to mislead mortals, and if that could be avoided, he spoke openly to them, even though they did not always understand the exact meaning of his words. </p><p>"You never wanted to settle down? Have a family, children? ”</p><p>Oh, so that's where it's headed. Joe watched for a moment a path in front of him, now it was just a rain-cut side road leading to the mountains. So far, the army car has managed it.</p><p>He had heard similar questions before - and not once. But it was never possible. He would lie if he said he hadn't been attracted to it for a while, but then Booker came and his story was terrible, because it was exactly as Joe and Nicky had expected - it was unbearable to watch children grow, grow up - and die. It must have been even worse for the women ... But Andy didn't mention anything like that. On the other hand, they did not know if they were capable of producing offspring at all, or if they were not just a dry developmental link of humanity, strange sterile hybrids. </p><p>"Not at all," he replied after a moment. "Who knows, maybe once. And you?"</p><p>John shook his head and watched the forest begin to appear on the right side of the road. Joe knew what was going on his mind. </p><p>“ John, you can speak openly," he looked at him briefly, then he turned the wheel sharply as the road began to be narrow and steep. "I know what is going on and it's not easy. In the autumn, when I arrived, you were completely different, "he said carefully. He didn't want to scare that boy. </p><p>"What do you know about that," John said unhappily, sounding a little childish, as if he were still a teenager, even though he was twenty-five. He even crossed his arms over his chest, still staring grimly out the window. </p><p>"I have eyes," Joe shrugged. They were three days to spend together, and it would be good if there was no unnecessary tension between them.</p><p>The journey to the pass took almost the whole day, they were supposed to arrive around 4:00 P.M., check the supplies and load everything for the next day. Then they had to check the fences, which has to prevent the alpine breeding of sheep from running down into the valleys, and prepare a residence for the shepherd, who spends most of the year with the herd.</p><p>As they entered the straighter section of the road, Joe released the steering wheel, and took off his old green jacket. John winked at him, but he kept his - much warmer denim jacket on. They were silent most of the way, although at times they managed to talk about farm work, the weather, and the amounts for which they had sold lambs this year. The very harmless topics. </p><p>When they arrived at a small warehouse made of wooden boards, the sun has not set yet and they checked quickly that the roof had not broken through the winter rains and snow, fortunately. The supplies were not devalued, even though some of the hay got wet, but that could be expected. It was usually taken from here in the autumn, but the harvest of last year was so strong that there was no place, so they decided to leave the mountain hay here. In addition, there were a few more bags of supplementary feed, but they were in good condition, so Joe decided to leave them here for the next season.</p><p>By the time they finished, it was getting dark. Next to the warehouse was a small chalet where the shepherd slept with his dog. However, it was surprisingly well equipped and comfortable, there was even a bathroom with water from a mountain stream. They checked the diesel generator in the dock, refueled it, left the remaining full canisters next to it, and loaded the empty ones back into the car. The electricity was usually turned on only in the evening or early in the morning. The shepherd spent all his time outside. It reminded Joe of the Alps, but by the time he was there, there was definitely no electricity in similar chalets, and there was only dampness on the ground. </p><p>Apart from the bathroom, there was only one room, but it could accommodate a bunk bed, a small couch, a stove on which you could cook and a miniature sideboard. The view from the window was breathtaking - a slight slope leading down to the forest zone and behind it valleys with rivers and small town night lights.</p><p>John put backpack with food on the table and took off his jacket. </p><p>"Will you make dinner?" Joe asked, trying not to imagine Nicky, for whom every meal was a small ritual.</p><p>John nodded and looked in his backpack. "Would you like canned sausages, canned stew, or canned tomato soup?" </p><p>" Your mom doesn't have a very high opinion of us when it comes to cooking," Joe chuckled, also looking into backpack over John's shoulder. Really - there was only a few fresh foods, even though they only went away for two days. </p><p>"I'm going to conjure some edible food of this, go wash yourself," Joe said, pity as his stomach tightened by the thought of heated can soup.</p><p>John laughed, took a towel, and disappeared into the miniature bathroom.</p><p>Joe found a few potatoes, an onion and a semi-finished product - <em> gyros </em>, which you can throw in the pan. He made a grimace, but still better than a canned food. He started cleaning vegetables, and when John came out of the bathroom, the interior of the cottage was already smelling by a delicious dinner. </p><p> </p><p>“Where did you learn to cook like that?" John asked as he put his last bite and put down his fork.</p><p>"Life has taught me," Joe grinned. "But I have just a few opportunities for it." He remembered Nicky, who let him cook only in exceptional cases.</p><p>"Life on the road?" John asked.  In the evening, a full stomach and fatigue grinded the edges a bit, so the boy was a little more accessible than during the day. </p><p>"Life on the road," Joe nodded with a sigh and began clearing the dishes from the table. "We should go to bed. We have to get up soon and go for a inspection, your father said the fence could be damaged - we'll see how it is. Maybe it's fine and we will be home by midnight tomorrow. "</p><p>John reached for backpack again and looked for something in it. To Joe's surprise, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He hadn't noticed it there before. </p><p>“Would you like…?”</p><p>Joe remembered how it was rumored around the farm that John was drinking quite a bit- and if he was struggling with problems he could be damn sure alcohol wouldn't solve, it wouldn't be a good idea to encourage him. But they had a pretty nice evening, and Joe was glad John was a little more open. At dinner, he even told him about the college he'd graduated from last year. Joe knew nothing about the technical field John had so passionately talked about, but he knew how to ask questions to keep the conversation going. </p><p>"But only one," he agreed, handing the glasses. "And go turn off the generator, we don't need electricity anymore," he added, lighting a kerosene lamp. When the ceiling lamp went out, it was the only source of light - along with a dimmed maze of oven fire. They sat down to the whiskey and drank. The shadows lengthened, but both men weren't tired enough to fall into bed— after all, they spent most of the day in the car, which was unusual for Joe, compared to days filled with hard work on field, with sheep, or machine repairs. The soft light beautified John's features - he looked even younger, the wrinkles around his eyes disappeared. </p><p>"My father didn't want me to go back to the farm," he said after a moment, turning the glass in his hand. </p><p>"After school?" Joe watched him with dark eyes.</p><p>"The science I studied could technically improve the farm. But my father didn't even want to hear about it. He was even willing to give me some money to start with, just to ensure I wouldn't come back, "he grinned bitterly. </p><p>"He knows about… it," Joe said quietly but firmly. It wasn't so surprising.</p><p>John raised his eyes, looked straight at Joe's, and nodded. Then he drank again. </p><p>"But I had nowhere to go. And I didn't want to. I love the farm, I want to work - and I work really hard to deserve appreciation.”</p><p>After a moment of silence, he continued: "Father never accepted it. He didn't accept me. Mom and Jess dealt with it anyway, but dad is old school. And when <em> you </em> came ... 'shrugged. "I like you, Joe," he said simply, finishing rest of the whiskey in his glass, keeping his eyes on older man.</p><p>Joe looked down and sighed. "I know."</p><p>He also knew that he should not get involved with anyone here, but immersing himself in the lives of these mortal people seemed like divine cure to him. As if he were one of them. From time to time he longed to stay here, as long as possible, to pretend to live a normal life, to forget… But deep down, he knew it was impossible. His life had a different path. </p><p>"You should have seen what my father looked like when I told him I was coming here with you," John grinned mischievously and poured alcohol again, despite Joe's protests.</p><p>"You asked him to?" Joe asked suddenly. </p><p>"No, I told him so," the young man shrugged. </p><p>“John, he sees how you care about me... don't you think it would be easy for him to order me to go alone, or to take one of the other workers?”</p><p>John's smile faded a little. </p><p>"But he didn´t do that. He just told me you were coming with me. Your father loves you, John. He wants you to be happy. Although it may not look like that, at first glance, "he added, covering John's hand with his. He could still afford this little intimate gesture. </p><p>Joe saw it too often - whole families and generations divided by petty moral disputes. He had been in the gray zone long enough for it to seem how pointless it was.</p><p>John didn't answer, but Joe thought there was a tear in his eye. </p><p>"I'm going for a walk, " he drank the rest of his whiskey and left the chalet. John seemed to want to object, but he didn't argue. He had some things to think about. </p><p> </p><p>The next day sky was cloudy, it was much colder. From the mountain peaks that bent over the pastures winter wind was blowing and around noon it started to rain. Joe got up early and woke John up as well - in the morning they had to check the fence and repair it if it was damaged somewhere. Joe picked up a tool case from the car and headed up the hill to the distant end of the field. He had to roll the collar high to his neck as the unpleasant wind blew. </p><p>John could easily find way between the low bushes - he hadn't been here for the first time, and soon they were circling the perimeter of the pastures, checking wooden pales and wire mesh. It was torn down somewhere - probably from forest animals, but Joe easily repaired it – his hands froze because he didn´t have proper gloves. John helped him, so in the afternoon, they could return to the chalet and the car to load everything they needed. Sadly, It took them longer than they expected.</p><p>"It probably doesn't make sense to go down to the valley today. Let's wait until tomorrow," said a sweaty Joe as he leaned against the inside wall of the warehouse and slid his cap to the top of his head. The rain was heavier and they had just removed the last bale of hay and covered the car with a tarpaulin.</p><p>"I agree," John said, going out to turn on the generator, so they can have hot water later in the evening.</p><p>Joe tidy up the warehouse to make as much room for new hay as possible. He had just rolled up a ball of wire, which they used for repairs and suddenly heard footsteps behind him. </p><p>"Maybe you should make dinner tonight. I'm hungry like a wolf, " he called, but at that moment he felt that John was too close to be socially acceptable. He was standing right behind him. Joe turned quickly - of course he wasn't wrong. John was standing there, rainwater running down his temple. He behaved normally, relaxed all day, Joe had no reason to think that something is bothering him from yesterday's conversation. Apparently it was just John´s daily defense - to work all day and not think about personal problems, to do what is necessary and to solve one's own things when it is spare time. </p><p>"You said my father wanted me to be happy," he said in a hoarse voice. He kept his eyes on Joe's lips.</p><p> „That's what I said, "Joe replied slowly, looking back at him. It would be so easy to succumb to the smell of this young man.</p><p>It wouldn't be the first time - he was ashamed of it. He confessed to Nicky, but when they talked about it, they concluded that it was completely natural. It wasn't possible to stay with one partner for more than a millennium ... that's how Joe justified it then, and Nicky nodded as he understood and gave him complete freedom. Nicky himself did not have such desires, but he also had no right to tell Joe what he could do and he couldn´t. He didn't want anyone - <em> yet </em> , Joe thought. But when he imagined Nicky with another man, he was furious, and he was even more angry with himself. Nicky <em> was a saint </em> , how can he do this to him – <em> again?! </em></p><p>So when young Mr. Wright leaned over and forced Joe a kiss that smelled of rain and young masculinity that was almost unbearable to refuse, he grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him away. </p><p>"Don ´t," he said firmly.</p><p>"Am I not attractive to you?" John asked, looking like he didn't want to give up so easily. </p><p>"You know that's not true," Joe replied, but his decision was already been made. "You are beautiful and under other circumstances ..." he sighed heavily, realizing that it would be difficult for him to explain his current "circumstances" to John.</p><p>Andy did it sometimes. She found someone who had helped her bear the burden of life - at least for a while, but she always escaped before anyone could suspect her that she wouldn't grow old at all. Joe couldn't even imagine how painful it must have been for her - to leave someone she was attached to and who had lifted her soul. What did he know about the pain of forever <em> goodbye </em>? It was Nicky who protected him from that, day after day, year after year.</p><p>"I have someone, John. Someone waiting for me on the other side of the world, " as he said it, Joe felt the wonderful lightness, the rightness of his statement. John resigned. </p><p>"Okay. I understand."</p><p>He had a hurt look on his face - Joe didn't like to do this to him, but he knew the wound would heal quickly. </p><p>“John –“</p><p>"Nevermind," John raised his hands in a defensive gesture and went outside into the rain. Joe heard the door slam. He sighed again, turned off the light in the warehouse and went after John. He had already overcome weeks of cabin fever in more enclosed spaces. He can handle one night. </p><p><br/>
When they returned from the mountains, life on the farm ran as before - nothing had changed. John had refused to talk to him, and it was only a matter of time before his father would notice. Fortunately, to him it was a good sign of Joe's character. He extended Joe´s contract for a few months, and treated him a nicer than in days, that he had  thought he could be his son's potential lover. Every day, Joe confirmed the rightness of his actions.</p><p>Christmas came, the year was over and Joe was looking forward not only to Nicky but also to Booker and Andy. After almost a year, he turned on the phone, opened the e-mail, and checked it every night from that day on.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Edinburgh, United Kingdom</b><br/><br/>"By the next lecture, please read the chapter of the economy at least. It will appear in the assignment for the year-end essays, ” Nicky looked at his watch. He was late again for more than ten minutes. He grinned to himself and began packing. Were the kids so curious in <em> his </em> days?</p><p>When he left Greece six months ago, he did not know where he was going or what he would do. All he knew was that he would miss Joe, Andy and Booker terribly. But he saw where it went. Soon they would get cabin fever and go kill each other. Maybe literally. However, he did not want to be completely alone. He knew Andy preferred solitude, Booker usually had no choice because of his moods, and Joe ... Joe  sometimes needed a break. Nicky had no idea where he can be on that imaginary scale from ´the hermit´ to ´the star of red carpet´ currently. And he didn't even know where Joe was, which bothered him even more.</p><p>Nicky liked company, and when the time came, he looked for places where he was needed, or at least useful. In recent years, this has become a problem - everyone has a camera phone in their pocket, and the rise of narcissism has caused more photos of faces to appear on the Internet than in any government's databases. He therefore chose distant regions where random shots were not too threatening. But sometimes- as now, he needed to get some rest from poverty and misery. In such cases, he was able to slip into the tapestry of the world and adopted a new identity.</p><p>Presently it was Nicolò Rossetti, a historian, expert on the early medieval warfare and the Italian city-states. No one could accuse him of not knowing enough. He sent out requests and immediately took the first offer that appeared. The University of Edinburgh accepted him with open arms, lecturers who were willing to teach literally for alms was very needed. He rented a small apartment right next to the campus, and when he dropped his backpack there in mid-August, he finally relaxed a little after months. </p><p>He's never been in this city before, but it was - just wonderful. He didn´t suffer from nostalgia of the old days, he knew very well that today's "times" are not so different from the past, but Edinburgh was simply a charm. It was nice to look out the window and see civilization in its best form.</p><p>He started lecturing right in September and it turned out better than he expected - the students literally loved him. Or rather, they loved his storytelling. Joe often said he could listen to him for centuries, but he always thought he was just flattering him. Nicky felt good among young people who had never seen war. They had no wild eyes or torn faces. They were happy. At such a moment, he thought that their work, their missions, made sense.</p><p>He slung his bag over his shoulder and left the lecture room. He finished for today, it was almost half past five. He walked down university half-empty corridors and stairs out into the autumn gloom. The only thing he didn't like about this country was the weather. He crossed the courtyard and headed down to a side street between the library and the Department of History, to the house where he lived.</p><p>When the door of the apartment slammed shut behind him, silence fell on him. He avoided the lonely evenings as much as he could, helped with extracurricular activities or, if it didn't rain, went for long walks on the Royal Mile, Calton Hill, or where his feet took him. Today, however, he had nowhere to go. </p><p>He decided to prepare materials for the next week. He often entertained students with his knowledge of everyday life in the Middle Ages (<em> as they called it </em>!), of which he knew that they certainly did not get into any chronicle of famous deeds. He set a kettle on the stove to boil the water, so he could make coffee the way Joe had taught him - sweet as sin, dark as night.</p><p>While it was boiling, he picked up manuals from the shelves so that his lecture would not deviate from what was generally known in contemporary interpretation. With the third year students, a series of lectures of the Crusades was to begin next week. It was difficult to choose what contemporaries considered important because it was often different from what <em> he </em> considered important. There were a lot of books on his desk, and some told lies, that often brought a smile to his face. How do you say that? <em> The history is written by the winners </em>. But who is supposed to read it.</p><p>He put down the glasses he didn't need, but wore them to make it difficult to identify him. He even grew the beard he wore when he conquer the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Now it was just trimmed and not wild and dirty from the desert dust. He caught his reflection in the screen of a turned off laptop. The result was that he looked - and felt - much older. However, the jacket with the pattern of glen plaid, which was worn by all teachers over forty here, he sharply rejected. He came to the interesting conclusion that it was the same pattern - and the cut, worn by the professors he saw about a hundred years ago in Oxford. Interestingly, some things never changes. </p><p>No message found in encrypted mail. At the beginning of the school year, he shared information about where he was and what he was doing - maybe he was kind of hoping that it would arouse others to do the same. Half a year has passed since March but he did not get the desired result - Andy is currently somewhere in the Central Asian steppe, where he indulges in horseback riding, sleeping under the stars and is perfectly alone. Booker is probably drunk, of course, and doesn't care where he is - but Nicky hoped that there would be <em> an offer </em> soon, which he would find interesting and focus on.</p><p>And Joe ... <em> oh Joe </em> . It was hard not to know. They spent centuries together, albeit with breaks, as one body. He realized how incredibly lucky he was, and he knew that Joe felt the same way. However - they were just people too. They had their bright moments, but also the dark periods that Nicky accepted as fate. <em> Deus vult </em>. And if Joe needed to be alone, he understood. He even understood that he cheated on him - it was about four hundred years ago, but he remembered it very vividly - they had spent a long time together and had to separate, as they do now. Joe then spent three years in South America, and when they met again, he saw betrayal and guilt in his eyes.</p><p>Nicky didn't know what had happened there, but he didn't even ask. Joe fell to his knees in front of him and begged for forgiveness. It tore Nicky's soul to pieces, but he forgave Joe — reason told him it was human to make mistakes. But his heart did not heal until many years later. Eventually he recovered - the saying that time would heal everything in their case paid a hundredfold. The only thing that lasted was their love, and that mattered. Sometimes it hurt, like an old scar that echoes when it´s the right weather. That's when he remembered that it was one of the few things that made them human beings.</p><p>He made coffee, find something for reading and sat in his comfortable office chair . However, his mind kept returning to Joe. Nicky dreamed with his eyes open - his memories led him far away in time and space, into countries that are no longer. He remembered the endless sky full of stars under which he got his first kiss - and it tasted like coffee with honey and spices. Then fate touched him and he knew he was lost forever - he became a prisoner of dark eyes, bronze skin, dexterous hands that had wounded him so many times, <em> killed </em> him so many times ... but now they were now gentle, searching and finding. He could feel the warm sand under his back, the firm weight of body above him, the sweet midnight dream that penetrated him, and he knew this was his eternity. Is he damned? So let it be so.</p><p>As his mind wandered, his hand unknowingly slid down his shirt to the button of his pants. He didn't even think about it, and now his penis rested in his tight grip, solid and hard. The drops of preejaculate gave him enough moisture, and he clenched the fingers of the other hand into the back of his old chair and he imagined Joe's gifted mouth, which introduced him to the secrets of oriental magic. The muscles in his thighs tensed and the wheels on the chair shifted. He let out a muffled sigh and came.</p><p>In that moment the grief of the last time in the ragged house on Ydra caught up with him. He couldn't help himself, after the orgasm he was always used and melancholic, but when he was alone, he often finds it harder. For a moment he just look at the ceiling, softening cock in his hand, thinking about his own misery. Because that's how he´s feeling right now. Small and pathetic.</p><p>Nicky raised his head and his spine cracked. He cleared his throat and went to the bathroom to adjust. The coffee, meanwhile, has cooled down. He was incredibly lonely.</p><p><br/>*</p><p> </p><p>"Don't you think that the Crusades were just an another case of European aggression against Middle Eastern cultures, as we see it throughout history to this days?"<br/>A question came from the auditorium. It was red-haired student, her name Nicky can´t remember. </p><p>"You have to see historical events in a historical context," he replied, shifting his glasses. "But you're right - the European population around the Mediterranean has for some time felt that it is necessary to give it a crown in a spiritual sense and turn their attention to the Holy Land. It was supposed to be the final slap of Christianity in the face of the Heathen,” he smiled at her, hoping he had answered her question satisfactorily. </p><p>It was time before Christmas, but the lecture room was still full, which pleased him. His colleagues lectured in half-empty classes because the students fled home as soon as possible. He was not surprised - there were a few days left until the holidays, the appropriate atmosphere ruled everywhere, which was intensified by freshly fallen snow.</p><p>"But do you agree that European desire for power far exceed anything that the Arabs have accomplished in wars?" the red-haired, apparently in her free time internet fighter for social justice, apparently could not be discouraged.</p><p>"You'd be amazed at how aggressive the Arabs could be if they liked something," he replied with a smile, as the private joke warmed his heart. The students laughed softly, although of course they missed the true meaning. The student blushed to the roots of her hair.</p><p>That's all, thank you all for your attention. I wish you a beautiful holiday. ”</p><p>It was his last lecture this year. He received an invitation to a Christmas dinner from the dean and his wife because he told him that he was not going back to Italy and would rather stay here to enjoy the Christmas markets, egg nog and snow. They were sorry that young teacher have to spend Christmas Day alone, and Nicky thought the invitation was nice, but did not plan to go there. Only if loneliness was really unbearable.</p><p> </p><p>On the way home from university, he went into a small Tesco next to campus to buy groceries and maybe something small to please him. Apart from ordinary things - bread, cheese and honey, he discovered only cheap Italian wine, but even that was better than nothing. He took a plastic bag, said goodbye to the Indian at the cash register, whom he already knew by name, and went home. It started to snow again. He hasn't seen white Christmas in about twenty years - mostly because they were stuck somewhere in Central Africa, or some small country in the South American jungle. Along the way, he raised his face to the snowflakes and enjoyed the way they melted on his skin. When got home, his hair and beard were almost white, but as soon as he entered the hall, the snow began to melt, so he was soaked like a stray dog. He went to the third floor where his apartment was and reached for the handle. However, the door was not locked - just closed. Someone broke into his place.</p><p>Nicky put down his glasses and hid them in his jacket pocket, set the grocery bag on the floor to keep it from rustling, and slowly opened the door. If he will be quiet enough, he will be able to get to the weapon, which is attached on the back side of the shoe shelf. He was here on vacation, but he wasn't an idiot to stay completely unarmed. People like him (i.e. Andy, Booker and Joe) had their enemies who had no idea they could not be killed, so they spent a bunch of money on assassins.</p><p><em> The floor must not creak. </em> </p><p>But he was unlucky. As soon as he took a step into the apartment, the old wooden floor squealed like dying pig, and he jumped like an arrow, ripping a weapon from its hiding place and aiming it in the hallway with the intention of shooting at anything that appeared there. But nothing appeared - he was looking down the hall directly into his small living room, which also served as a study. It was lit there. He saw only a table corner cluttered with books and a hand-rest of  ragged couch. Nicky was about to take the next step when somebody said:</p><p>"I thought this version was never sold -"</p><p>Booker came out around the corner, Jane Austen's late works in his hands, staring thoughtfully into the light-brown pages.</p><p>"Christ, Booker!" Nicky lowered his weapon and rolled his eyes. "You scared me."</p><p>He put down his weapon, took the bag from the hallway, and closed the door.</p><p>"What the hell are you doing here?"</p><p>"You got this right from her, do you?” his friend finally looked at him.</p><p>"Yes I do, so you better give it to me before you can grease it with those grabbing French claws," Nicky took the book from his hands, tossed it on the couch, and hugged him.  Booker, slightly smelled like booze as always, returned his hug. They stood for about a minute, then Nicky released him. There was a moment of silence, Booker avoiding his gaze again.</p><p>"I didn't want to be alone at Christmas."</p><p><br/>Nicky nodded firmly.<br/><br/></p><p>"You won't."</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>After all, those holidays will not be so sad. It was nice to have Booker here, even though he was a silent man devastated by a loss Nicky couldn't even imagine. It must have been even worse for him at Christmas, because he remembered his family vividly. Nicky's memories of his own relatives faded, and his only family was three equally immortal killers.</p><p>But he was glad to have someone to cook for, it was like a return to normal - now did he realize how terribly he missed it. It was as if he was going through some old pain, which he had for log time suppressed with medication. </p><p>As Nicky prepared the dinner, Booker shared the news with him - as expected, Booker was always watching the streams of information they could use in the future. When he slept two nights on Nicky´s  couch, he looked better - the dark circles under his eyes disappeared, he even began to joke. He didn't have one of his dark moods, and Nicky was glad he was here. The closeness to each other gave them both a zest for life.</p><p>"Oh, if I missed anything about you, it was your cooking," Booker complimented him after Christmas Eve meal, pouring them both wine.</p><p>"Thanks, I feel special," Nicky grinned, drinking with him. "And I thought that hell would freeze before the Frenchman praised anything other than snails and moldy cheese."</p><p>“Don't even tell me about moldy food, I ate it for almost two months until I stopped enjoying it.”</p><p>"Where have you actually been? "</p><p>Booker avoided his eyes. He didn't like confiding, but the pleasant atmosphere of that evening affected him. </p><p>"Various places - especially in the States. While you were lazy sloths, I worked. ”</p><p>"It's appreciated, but it´s your job, greenhorn," Nicky said, pulling one of the rare smiles on that tired face. When Booker smiled, his eyes brightened, he looked much more attractive.</p><p>"Yes, <em> papy </em>," Booker replied, humbly bowing to Nicky's beard "What did you even think of?" he grinned and drank his wine.</p><p>"I look more serious with it."</p><p>"You look like a homeless man."</p><p>"What makes me no different from the local academic community," Nicky winked at him.</p><p>Booker burst out laughing. It was a clear sound, springing right in his heart, somewhere deep where sadness could not be heard.</p><p>"It used to be more socially acceptable, back in the days…" Nicky added, refilling their wine glasses.</p><p>" It suits you," Booker replied, his gaze suddenly piercing Nicky like a bayonet. </p><p>What was <em> that? </em>  The atmosphere changed, they both fell silent. Booker cleared his throat and changed the subject.</p><p><br/>"Did you hear anything about Andy?"</p><p>“Not a word. Joe – the same.”</p><p>Nicky stared at the red liquid in the glass, which slowly rotated between his fingers.</p><p>„You miss him.“</p><p>"You have no idea," Nicky sighed.</p><p>Booker ran a hand over his face and then shook his head.</p><p>"Sorry. Let's not talk about it, ”added Nicky, who sensed the impending crisis and it was something he really didn't need on Christmas Eve.</p><p>"No, it´s okay. I have to stop regretting. I´m just…after those centuries, I'm getting tired,” Booker shook his head again, this time harder. He did not engage in personal debates, and everytime the conversations after dinner began to revolve around something personal in one of their hiding places, he preferred to go outside.</p><p>He leaned under the table (Nicky pretended not to see how he wiped his eyes) and picked from his bag large folio. It  had a small red bow stuck in the corner.</p><p>"Merry Christmas," he grinned crookedly, handing portfolio to Nicky across the table. He hesitantly accepted it and untied the strings, looking alternately at the gift and Booker. When he opened it, a map appeared - a fairly old map of his hometown.</p><p>"Oh, Booker, that's-"</p><p>"Acinelli, it is," Booker nodded and drank. "I didn't give you anything last year, so ... I owe you one."</p><p>"We were stuck in that Ethiopian shithole last year," Nicky remarked, but he was smiling. He stared at the artwork of his compatriot. Although he was a few centuries older, he recognized some of the streets ... and the harbor hadn't changed.</p><p>“Thanks Booker, it's a beautiful gift. But I have something for you too. ” He went to his desk and removed a plain brown paper package from the drawer. </p><p>"I wanted to keep it to myself, but - you're in the right place at the right time."</p><p>Booker apparently didn't expect it. "You don't have to, really ..."</p><p>„Don´t oppose, yougster.“</p><p>So Booker gratefully accepted the gift and unwrapped it. It was Scott's poems with his own dedication. Nicky also once received it as a gift - it was at a time when even Scott himself did not believe he would be famous and was intoxicated with historical stories and legendary heroes - he had no idea that one day he would really be read by characters from legends.</p><p>Booker smiled, and Nicky thought that a two-hundred-years-old print was a reasonable price to pay for this man's smile.<br/><br/>"Thank you again, Booker. For the Christmas.”<br/><br/>"You're welcome," his friend shrugged.<br/><br/></p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Nicky used to read in bed late at night, so he closed the bedroom door that the light wouldn't disturb Booker sleeping on the couch. It was about two o'clock in the morning when he heard something. Painful sighs. He jumped out of bed and only in his pajama pants opened the door to the living room. A dim light from outside illuminated Booker's figure, half-covered by a blanket. Hand crossed over his eyes, face in pain, body in tension. Nightmare.</p><p>Nicky went to him, leaned over and grabbed Booker´s forearm to shake him gently. The nightmares were nothing special, Nicky had them from time to time, they were like echoes of old life, or rather - echoes of the feelings he felt before he died for the first time.</p><p>Booker was startled and almost fell off the couch. He gripped Nicky's shoulders in his hands and fixed his wild eyes on him, as if he was the only thing that would keep him above the deep waters of madness. He was breathing deeply, as if he had run a marathon and his grip hurt.</p><p>"It´s okay, Booker,..." Nicky told him quietly, sitting down on the couch so he could hug him. "It's okay, I'm here with you," he reassured him and rubbed his back. </p><p>Booker was quite sweaty and Nicky realized with surprise that he had a strong masculine scent. Man´s heart stopped racing after a while, and he took a few deep breaths. After that he finally released the grip.</p><p>"Christ, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he said hoarsely as he fell back on the couch. Nicky got up and went to the kitchenette to pour him a glass of Scotch. He handed Booker a cup and sat down to the chair. The Frenchman drank the alcohol and exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes closed. </p><p>"Okay?" Nicky asked.</p><p>Booker nodded, his hand with empty glass resting on his chest. Nicky reached out to take it from him - he looked like he needed another gulp. Suddenly Booker oped his eyes, grabbed Nicky´s wrist, so he had to lean over him.</p><p>"Sometimes it's unbearable," he snorted. Nicky knew what he was talking about. Eternity. Solitude. <em> Regret. </em></p><p>“ I know, ” Nicky nodded, but Booker wouldn't let him go. They were silent for a moment, his eyes unreadable, dark. Then he raised his free hand and caressed Nicky's cheek. It was a gentle gesture. Nicky had never seen Booker do something like that before. He was always reluctant to touch children and animals, anything that might cause tenderness. He avoided women in a panic way, the only exception was Andy. And now he was here - on Nicky's couch and gently stroking his face ... but the second that took his breath away was fatal.</p><p>Booker attacked with all  despair of the lonely people. Nicky's half-open mouth was suddenly forced to taste whisky and tears and skin that had not been touched for long two centuries. He felt Booker's hunger, his desire and his passion, which was mostly covered with grief, like the rain-soaked dirt of the grave. The Frenchman yanked his hand and dextrously pulled Nicky on top of him, then rolled over, so they both ended up on the floor next to the couch. Nicky felt erection pushing against his side. He shook his head to escape Booker´s lips. </p><p>"Booker," he warned him, trying to move, so that he had at least one hand free. Goosebumps appeared on his bare chest. Booker stroked his temple, his cheekbone , down to his now-bearded chin. His face was very close, his eyes like two wells full of emptiness.</p><p>And suddenly it was gone.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Nicky," he whispered, releasing him, but still sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, his head hanging between his shoulders.</p><p>Nicky rose on his elbow, watching his friend inquisitively. They've been together too long  to not know what it's all about. The loneliness that crushed Andy permeated Nicky´s and Joe's dreams long before Booker was even born. They have never experienced it, but they have been able to taste what it is like to face all ages of the world alone. When it became unbearable, Andy usually found someone. Separation then hurt more, but healed faster. Carefully, Nicky reached out and grabbed Booker's shoulder.</p><p>"Sebastien…”<br/><br/>Booker raised his head. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I don't know what's wrong with me.”</p><p>Nicky bit his lip. "Haven't you ever thought ..."</p><p><br/>"No-" Booker snapped, maybe a little louder than he intended. Unspoken, it floated in the air, and Nicky wasn't so convinced of the correctness of the statement that it's better to love and lose than never to love. He got up and looked down at misfortune of his friend. He he held out his hand and helped him to his feet.</p><p>"You can go to bed, Nicky. And I'm sorry again,” Booker said, sighing again and folded his hands on chest, as he was afraid it would tear into million pieces.</p><p>" Nothing bad happened. Try to get some sleep too,” Nicky tried to smile encouragingly at him and  squeezing his shoulder once more. Then he turning to walk to his room.</p><p>"Nicky?" Booker said, when Nicky was at the entrance to the bedroom.<br/><br/>"Thank you. For everything."<br/><br/>"You´re welcome, Booker. Good night."<br/><br/>That night, Nicky prayed for the first time since his farewell to Joe. When he woke up in the morning, Booker was gone. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span>B:</span></p>
<br/>
<p><span>El Fenn, Marrakech, name´s Braque.</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table><p>
  
</p><table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span>J:</span></p>
<br/>
<p><span>Interesting alias. That is all?</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table><p>
  
</p><table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span>B:</span></p>
<br/>
<p><span>😀 </span><span>🐵😂🔫</span><span>🥥</span><span>✨</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table><p>
  
</p><table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span>J:</span></p>
<br/>
<p><span>What´s supposed to be that?</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
</p><table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span>B:</span></p>
<br/>
<p><span>Emojis. I added them here. Apparently it's being a thing now. They express emotions.</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table><p>
  
</p><table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span>J: </span></p>
<br/>
<p><span>Okay, some people can use it</span><span>🍆</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table><p>
  
</p><table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span>N: </span></p>
<br/>
<p><span>I'm looking forward to you. </span><em><span>N.</span></em></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table><p>
  
</p><table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span>J:</span></p>
<br/>
<p><span>Speak of the devil...</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table><p>
  
</p><table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span>B:</span></p>
<br/>
<p><span>N. pick up the gear. Box 45764-Vk / 12. Andy are you here?</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>(two weeks later)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>A: See you there.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>El Fenn Hotel, Marrakech, Morocco</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe arrived the day before the scheduled meeting. The great heat of North Africa, shadows of the palm trees and the clangour of local language  refreshed him after a twenty-hour flight  better than the coolest water. He took a taxi from Menara straight to the hotel. He half-hoped Nicky would be there. And that he will be alone. The journey takes less than half an hour and he feels the familiar excitement ... </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, it's been so long</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he smiles to himself as the cab rushed through the narrow alleys between dusty, ocher-colored walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he checked in, the man behind the counter smiled professionally at him and nodded across the hall, out into the atrium. There were seating for guests, placed in the cool shade of tall plants and marquees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"One of your friends arrived an hour ago," said recepcionist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe turned around, and for the first time he was overlooked him, but then -  as if he sensed Joe, turned that Devil his head, and he finally registered him. He had longer hair - </span>
  <em>
    <span>and for Allah</span>
  </em>
  <span> - a beard! He hadn't seen it for about forty years</span>
  <em>
    <span>. He looks exactly like the day I first cut him, in the dust beneath Hisn al-Akrad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Joe thought, grinning at himself at what came to mind. Nicky stood up and waved at him. Did he notice that he was just as nervous? (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Is it still possible after all those years</span>
  </em>
  <span>?) He´s wearing a blue shirt with rolled up sleeves and dark trousers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe thanked the receptionist, took the keys and his (fake) documents, and went outside with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nico."</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The bag falls to the ground and it rumbles. Joe grips him in his arms and inhales his scent hidden under the strands of hair on back of his neck. Nicky hugged him firmly too, but after a moment he interrupted that, stepped away from Joe, smiling broadly. During time, they had learned to hug in public as friends, as brothers - and Joe had always been incredibly upset about that. He would rather throw Nicky on the  table and show him how much he missed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shall we sit down?" Nicky points to the sofa and table on which stands a teapot with strong, sweet mint tea. It smells wonderful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tell me, where have you been?" he asks straight and resists the urge to touch him again. "And what about the monstrosity on your face?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky touches his jaw. "The students quite liked it," he replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Students?" Joe growls, but he knows Nicky's just teasing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Edinburgh, University," Nicky shrugs and pours them tea. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Joe knows this very well, he read his mail a few months ago</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "And you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe leans back comfortably and looks around the atrium - it's almost empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>„Sheep shearing. New Zealand.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky chuckles in his cup of tea. " No way."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe has been sheep grazing since he learned to walk and carry a stick to drive cattle. Then he became a soldier and his fate overtook him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Booker and Andy?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Tomorrow, as we planed it, ," Nicky replied, his gaze darkening a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you know what kind of work it is?" Joe asks more quietly because the hotel waitress walks by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have no idea," Nicky shakes his head. "We'll have to wait until tomorrow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you have any idea how we'll spend that time?" Joe asked with the corner raised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shall we go on a city tour?" Nicky replies, all innocent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe shakes his head. The old game again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>" Dinner?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Maybe later."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Into the desert to watch the stars?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Tempting, but I have to say no."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Nicky smirks, giving up. He gets up with his hands in his pockets.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Then follow me, sir," he bows slightly and heads upstairs. Joe takes the bag and follows him.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Students, you said?" he whispers sinisterly as they plunge into the red gloom of the hotel corridor.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They share the apartment with Andy and Booker, but today they will have it for themselves. Between the sofa and French window, which overlooks the market, there is a huge black box. Joe knows what's in it - his scimitar, Nicky's long sword, shamefully sharp, Andy's labrys, a sniper rifle, and apparently a considerable amount of explosives, ammunition, and everything Booker thought was necessary in their next venture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a huge bed in their room, next to which lies Nicky's unpacked backpack. The afternoon sun penetrates through the stained glass window and forms colorful patterns on the carpet. The windows have thick canvas curtains with the same pattern as blankets and pillows. There is an unobtrusive but very pleasant scent of argan oil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe whistles softly and closes rustic door behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, I've slept in worse shitholes," he notes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"God knows what Booker is up to," Nicky replies, looking out the window. The grating on the outside are formed into elegant curls - the French heritage of Morocco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe he finally won in the horse bets," Joe replies, but he didn´t care of Booker right now. He sneaks up behind Nicky´s back and hugs him - as he really wanted from the moment he saw him - and inhales the scent of his hair again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I missed you so much," he whispered, running his palms over his lover's chest and ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky turns in his arms. "Not like I missed you," he replies in a whisper, finally kissing Joe. The kiss deepens, Joe slips into the feeling as smoothly as a snake in a hole, it's so familiar, so sweet ... He eagerly takes off Nicky's shirt and then he tries to pull his own  out of his pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They smile into kisses over the familiarity of the situation, Joe deftly leads Nicky to the bed, finally takes off his shirt, which flies to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can´t get enough of white skin just like that first night. He covers his lovers neck, chest and abdomen with eager touches of his lips and lets Nicky caress him with his fingers in the hair. He takes off his pants, their metal buckle tinkling in the silence of the room. Nicky gets up on her elbows and looks at Joe with a look of desire. Despite the haze of lust, Joe recognizes something else in that look, some unknown ingredient, and he doesn't know yet if it's a taint or a new spice. He gets rid of the last remnants of his clothes and returns to that amazing neck, stroking Nicky gently between his legs with one hand, not touching his penis yet, because he knows it is driving him crazy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck me," he whispers in Arabic, " Fuck me blind."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your wish is my command," Nicky replied in the same language. Polite to the very last minute. But what follows was far from chivalrous manners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls Joe on stomach and puts him down. Joe feels Nicky's cock rubbing against the arc of his ass as he clenched his wrists and pushes them into the soft mattress next to his head. He squeezes the sheet in his palms and Nicky releases his hands, running his own over Joe´s ribs, hips and ass. Joe himself doesn't look at what he´s doing, his eyes are tightly closed. He exhales sharply when a few drops of oil land on his sacrum, followed by skilled fingers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oil</span>
  </em>
  <span> ... smiled Joe in a pillow. However, the smile disappears from his face when Nicky touches his hole and slips inside easily. He massages his scrotum with the other hand and Joe was lost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please," he whispers when he´s ready and luckily Nicky obeys. He penetrates Joe with a single sharp movement, and it reminds Joe of that moment when everything was new to them - when they were both tired and destroyed by the war and half mad at the fact that they were immortal. No, their first sex was definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not tender</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Since then, they have learned gentleness, but sometimes ... sometimes their true essence was revealed. They were warriors and their world was rough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The weight of Nicky's body rested on him, soothing and exciting at the same time, his abdomen sliding down Joe's back, slick  of oil. Joe feeled the breath on his ear and the fingers of Nicky's right hand intertwined with his, while his left hand held his hip firmly. He'll have a bruise there tomorrow </span>
  <em>
    <span>... oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. At that moment, he climaxed without Nicky even touching his cock. Tied under his body, it soiled the beautiful blankets, but Joe didn't care. He had chills in the back as he felt Nicky hit once more, twice, and stiffened, clutching Joe's hip tightly, nose buried in his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you," he whispered as his body relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through the post-orgasmic haze, Joe heard the mysterious ingredient in that voice again - and no, he found, he didn't like it. Nicky slipped out of him and Joe turned with a cracking joint in his hips. He hugged his lover – Nicky´s eyes were infinitely sad.</span>
  <em>
    <span> La petite mort</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you, Nicolò," he replied, running his hand into the hair that fell around Nicky´s face, and that was enough for now. They had nothing else.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that evening, when they had eaten the shamelessly rich dinner brought to their room, Joe was lounging in the tub, watching Nicky shave his face by the sink through the hot water steam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"You should have kept it," he said about the tenth time. Even the long hair disappeared -that Nicky had made Joe cut it. He looked civilized again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>„I liked it.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know that, but do you know how hot is in it?" Nicky objected, leaning closer to the mirror and using a razor to remove the hair under his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don´t say," Joe growled, running his hand over his own wet beard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The charming professor is gone. You look like a high school gym teacher again. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky smirked at him, shook his head, and snorted. He won the right to bathe first in coin toss and now wore only a towel wrapped around his hips. He wiped the last of the shaving foam with a damp towel, then folded his arms across his chest, staring at Joe's knees peeking out of the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This hotel probably won't be that classy if we don't both fit in that tub."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Booker apparently wanted to prevent the shame he had overcome in Barcelona."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although there was a bathtub large enough, it was not built for the activities Joe and Nicky were engaged in, so it burst and ruined the reception just below his apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I saw a small package in your backpack. A gift for me? You didn't have to.. ”he winked at Nicky, pretending to blush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It wasn't enough, all that I gave you already?!" Nicky pretended to feel offended, and put his palm on his bare chest in shock. They both laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, it's for Andy, this time she doesn't have a chance to puzzle out," Nicky said, hanging the wet towel on the pole next to the sink. "Eastern Turkey, hazelnuts, rose water and pomegranates."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You are bad. But she'll figure it out. "</span>
</p><p>
  <span>„A snowball's chance in hell.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So far, she has always figured it out.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No-" Nicky turned suddenly, his eyes shining with amusement. "Last time, 1845, Budapest - she didn't know there was cinnamon."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then you forced it to her when her intestines were still hanging from her stomach."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>” Don´t overact, she was fit.“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If you think so," Joe shook his head, dived into water to wash the shampoo from his curly hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he emerged and shook his head to get water out of his ears, he noticed that Nicky was standing near the tub, holding a linen bag with the hotel logo, and rummaging in it, apparently to find aftershave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I think I should give you a lesson in humility, crusader," Joe smiled broadly, leaned out of the tub, the water splashed on a stone mosaic on the ground, and with a single swift movement ripped Nicky's towel off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> *</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was half past ten when they finally arrived. Booker frowned as usual and Andy wanted to prevent the smile – but she couldn't. After hugging Nicky, she approached Joe as well - and he lifted her into the air with a happy shout. He probably shouldn't have done that - she was thousands of years older than he was, but he easily forgot about it, especially after long periods of separation and no one had written etiquette for the immortals, yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You look great," he complimented her.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"And you - quite well," Andy nodded.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>When they greeted, sat down around a small carved table to enjoy their coffee. Booker also sharpened his with something from the hipflask he always carried with. He rarely drank anything without alcohol, but it was hard to drink to death, when not even a bullet in head can´t kill you.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Andy, I have something for you," Nicky said, handing her a small package that Joe had noticed before.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Nicky ..." Andy smiled at that little favor and took the gift. She smelled it and closed her eyes happily. Joe knew what was coming, it was a tradition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Baklava again?" Booker raised his head like a beast sniffing its prey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about five hundred," Nicky grinned at him, and Joe smiled broadly. The bets were Booker's weakness and really –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, everything. She'll she will identify  all of it this time, ” Booker pulled a bundle of euros from his pocket and tossed them on the table. Moroccan money and a few dollars landed on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy unwrapped the package,  she bit out of the sweet cake, her face demonstrated supreme well-being. She simply loved baklava.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hazelnuts, not walnuts," she identified the first ingredient with the full mouth. Nicky watched her intently, but nodded briefly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closed her eyes and leaned back to taste the honey in her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Black Sea. Rose water, pomegranates. "</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>It was fun to watch Nicky during the bets. Joe knew exactly when he found out that he had lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy tilted her head, speculating about the origin…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Eastern Turkey."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outburst of Booker's laughter.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Grazie mille, Nicky," he chuckled, grabbing the money from the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky turned around, half disappointed, half amused, to the window. Joe laughed wildly - he would have to comfort him later. Even Andy laughed and licked the sweetness from her fingers. Nicky threw himself in the chair like an angry teenager.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't worry, it'll be better next time," Joe teased him and then whispered, </span>
  <em>
    <span>"I said it."</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Well, admit it boss. You missed this, ”he turned to Andy as the rustling bills disappeared in Booker's pocket.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>When she relaxed, her face was much younger. Which, of course, was bullshit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," she admitted, faint smile over her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So what about the job," Booker said. He sent them a link to the hotel yesterday with some details. South Sudan, child abduction. Joe knew it would be hard for Nicky to say no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We could help there," said Nicky cautiously, looking at Andy. After their last mission, he apparently did not believe that pure altruism would be something to help her make decisions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Have you seen the news lately?" she shook her head, "Help means nothing," she sighed, standing up and walking to the window. "We can't save anyone."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know you needed a break ... but it's been over a year," Joe said. He remembered very well the atmosphere in the house on Ydra ... fatigue, exhaustion. And hopelessness. As if she couldn't get rid of it. Andy dragged that with her and was harder for her than a soldiers full field equipment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Andy, this is what we do," said Nicky,  idealist as always.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced at Booker, as if expecting that he´s the one, who save her. However, he pressed is lips and silently agreed with Nicky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All right, I'll hear them." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   They spent the rest of the day preparing - they went around the area near hotel and found a suitable cafe for the meeting. They had a good view from the window of their hotel room, Nicky would have no problem aiming. In addition, they tried out the eavesdropping device that Booker had packed into the box - it wasn't the latest model, but they heard the test conversation in the designated spot without any problems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the evening, when everything calmed down, Andy went to bed and Joe checked his ammunition for the last time. He intended to sharpen his sword, but he heard something in the hallway - muffled voices. He thought it was Nicky, but he didn't understand what he was saying. Joe peeked out from the door and saw him talking to Booker - as if they were arguing about something…</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I forgave you. It was nothing. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, you don't understand—"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"We're not talking about it anymore, okay? " Nicky closed the debate, he seemed much more balanced than Booker. Frenchman bowed his head and ran his hand over his face and sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe hurried back into the room. They never had secrets, what do Nicky and Booker hide together? Joe felt a strange feeling in his chest, like a nasty worm that had been hiding in a damp hole for centuries and now raised its head curiously. He didn't like it. He didn't know what was going on, but Nicky was able to forgive people horrible things, if he saw that they regretted it - Joe respected the right to privacy, it was an essential part of the coexistence of their "family". He understood that he didn't have to know everything, but even so, the feeling didn't go away. Joe decided that he would be watching Booker closely from now on.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nicky woke up at dawn. He didn't open his eyes immediately, only sensed the dim light rushing into the room through the drawn curtain. He lay on his side, feeling the soothing weight of Joe's body behind him, embracing Nicky with one hand even in his sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world was fine again, there was a time of brief joy, he saw it as a precious gift. Joe got rid of the tension, spent some time alone and was back with Nicky. It was worth their last misunderstanding. When they met, he tried not to think about anything but his lover, who gave him a wonderful sweet forgetfulness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing that worried him was Booker, who left his apartment a few months ago without saying goodbye, shaken and unbalanced. Yesterday he tried very hard not to look directly at Nicky, when they were among others and Nicky hoped no one noticed - especially not Joe. He - Nicky, had nothing to hide from him.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Didn't he</span>
  </em>
  <span>? there was a faint voice at the bottom of his mind, but he pretended not to hear him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Booker's weakness  was his own business, and Nicky had no right to talk about it - even when he was involved. He loved Joe, but he was short-tempered, explosive... and that situation would cause problems in team that they certainly didn't need right now, before the mission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Booker even caught him alone last night and apologized again - then everything was fine, wasn't it? Except that Booker's tortured expression didn't change, even when Nicky assured him it was okay and nothing had happened. He had an unquenchable feeling that Booker wanted to tell him something else. When they get packed and leave Africa after this action, there will be more time to analyze it. Inside, he felt the familiar unrest that seized him before each mission. It wasn't sure that Andy will accept this job, </span>
  <em>
    <span>but still…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe's hand suddenly traveled down his shoulder to his back and side, where he gripped Nicky tightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's too early," Nicky whispered into the pillow with a smile, opening one eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hand slid forward under the blanket and clamped unmistakably around Nicky´s morning erection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don´t think so," Joe's voice behind him, hoarse from sleep. His black beard tickled Nicky´s shoulder blade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then we should get out of bed, right?" Nicky turned to his lover's face, a mischievous grin on his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only a slight smile played around Joe's lips, his eyes dark as if it were not morning, but a deep night. Joe clenched his manhood tighter, wiping the grimace off Nicky´s face. He exhaled sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"In a minute," Joe whispered, seizing his lips, as if he'd longed for them for millennia. Then he pulled off pajama pants, which were Nicky's only clothing, and tossed them aside, along with a blanket. Nicky remained lying on his back, surprised and completely naked, under Joe, who was kneeling over him and gazing at his body. Then he returned to Nicky´s eyes, slowly put his finger on his own lips. "Shhhh ..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky swallowed. Joe bent down, rubbed his mouth lightly on Nicky´s, and then down, over his chin, nipple, sternum, abdomen to the final center of his attention, which he lustfully licked underside to the wet tip. Nicky's head fell back and he bit his own hand, so he wouldn't moan aloud. The tickling sense of Joe's chin on the inside of his thighs didn´t help. He slung Nicky's right knee over his shoulder and covered sensitive skin the with kisses until he got back to his cock. He definitely don't waste time and Nicky close his eyes hard as he swallowed him</span>
  <em>
    <span>. God forgive me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was wonderful to be in those hot mouth again, which tasted like coriander, cinnamon and coffee, tasted like the dawn in the desert, like the mysterious lands, that had to be discovered…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A muffled sigh escaped him as he came into Joe's throat, the fingers clenched in his hair, one knee slung over his shoulder and the thigh in a firm embrace of a bronze palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now you can get out of bed and make me coffee," Joe whispered malevolently and lay up next to him, obviously happy with himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky wanted to hit him in the ribs with his elbow, but he was so used that he completely missed the point.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The shadow of an unmarked black helicopter swirls across the arid land of southern Sudan, towards Djuba. Rocky hills and valleys of dry rivers, groups of emaciated cattle, lonely small figures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy took the job. Nicky saw her lips tighten as she took Copley's tablet and looked through the photos - the girls, students of one of the few schools in the region that were supposed to secure at least some future for them. However, somebody ripped it away from them as fast as it can happen in this corner of the world ... you are nothing here, and even less  if you are unlucky and you were born as a girl. Nicky had seen many monstrosities in his life, but people were still able to come up with new ones. But when he was desperate, someone did something so incredibly right that no one dreamed about it- not  even in heaven, and that corrected the bad taste of cruelty in his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched Andy and Booker's meeting with Copley, a former CIA agent who was to dispose of the job, through a riflescope cross. The cafe in front of which they settled was within a reasonable distance, not even the market tents directly under the hotel windows were blocking the view. The black man seemed relaxed — certainly more than last time they met him and his wife was dying. Booker apparently chose not to take unnecessary risks and choose an offer from a verified person, even though this employer was no longer under a government and, in his own words, went into the private sector. After the boss agreed to the job, he looked up and wave at Nicky. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He was really good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Nicky grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Last night, a few hours before they left, Booker went to pick up a few more things they might be missing, and Andy, Joe and Nicky were alone in the hotel's rooftop bar. Twilight fell on the city and the sky was indigo blue, perhaps the last peaceful night before they jumped straight into brutal violence again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you trust him, boss? Copley? ” Joe asked suddenly, sitting comfortably on a sofa covered with red canvas. "You don't want to do this," he added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy drank chilled vodka in one gulp. She was silent for a moment, then nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't feel good about it. But Booker says Copley is okay, so ... 'she shrugged and looked to the west, where a pale line of dusk still stretched over the horizon like a fresh scar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was strange for Nicky that Copley hadn't gotten out of the last catch - Andy hadn't told him the price of the mission in advance, and he hadn't discussed it. There was no chance that there were any relatives among the children, so it was quite suspicious.  But Nicky understood her attitude - if they couldn't trust each other, they couldn't believe anything. They left the hotel before dawn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky devoted most of flight to silent prayer. It was more of a meditation, because he stopped believing in anything invented by organized religion a long time ago. He began to question the uniqueness of Christ in the moment when he </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span> rose from the dead. But Faith — no one took it from him, and sometimes it was the only thing he could lean on — and occasionally what Joe could lean on when he lost hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The noise of the helicopter made it impossible to talk, so they were silent until the pilot showed them three fingers - they were to be in place within five minutes. Nicky gripped an assault rifle in his hands, which he checked three times before they left, and he had his heritage by his side - long sword he relied on as well as a scimitar that Joe had attached to his backpack or Andy's labrys, axe so perfect in shape and material adapted to the present days. Nicky had no idea how many similar ones Andy had to destroy or lose in his career.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They finally found themselves on the ground, four figures dressed in black, in the middle of nowhere. The desert slowly passed into the savannah, a parched landscape. It was almost afternoon, the beasts rested, the only sounds being made by birds hidden in nests in the ground, or in the valleys provided precious shade. The air rippled from the heat, gluing their clothes to their bodies and their hair to sweaty foreheads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When night fell and desert cooled down, they finally reached their destination - a base appeared behind the last hill, which the local militia could not finance of their own, but it was not unexpected. They lay down and waited for the guards to change. Fortunately, lighting technology on the base was so dim that it barely reached the barbed wire wall. Nicky watched the movement of the two men in the watchtower on the north side with a night vision device. In recent years, his art of sniper has almost perfected. Single attempt was made for both of the guards to fall to the ground with a head shot. They set a while to see if it would cause a stir, but they were lucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that they ran down the hill to the base and easily got over the fence Booker had cut with wire cutters. Andy went first as always. They encountered only a few other members of the patrol, but they managed to neutralize them - if they could, they relied on cold weapons that made less noise than rifles and revolvers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The inner courtyard, covered by an army camouflage net, was empty, except for a few immobile wrecks of trucks and…-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Andy-" Nicky whispered, and she nodded as she saw it. A pile of children's shoes in front of the door to one of the shabby buildings without windows. All were almost identical, worn sandals that were part of the school uniform…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They covered Booker´s back while he attached a explosive of his own production to the door. When it exploded, they had to act quickly. They ran into the suffocating dust and thourgh the ripped door - there was nothing but stairs down, into the darkness. Flashlights illuminated uneven walls, there was silence everywhere. Andy jumped off the last step and the others followed. They were still in perfect darkness, but something didn't fit - the footsteps were too loud ... The cones of flashlights slid across the floor, too straight to fit here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the-" Andy began.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Are we late?" Joe asked uncertainly.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The lights came on and they were blind for a second, instinctively closing their eyes. When they reopened them, they found that it was no delusion - they were actually standing in a large, concrete room, about twenty weapons aiming at them.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"That son of a- ..." manages Andy only, when the gunfire started.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The cartridges rang on the floor, and Nicky felt his body pierce with infallible shots. It hurt like hell, and his only consolation was that it would be over soon. He knew this, when one of the bullets hit him directly in the forehead. Before he was overwhelmed by merciful darkness, he saw by corner of his eye as Joe fell to his knees beside him, his cap wet with blood, and he thought - </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, he hoped</span>
  </em>
  <span> - that this was not the last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn't. The first thing he saw was his own reflection. He frowned, but then he realized - he was lying on the polished floor, his face half lit by a flashlight. He exhaled and, without moving, turned his gaze to the right - Joe's hand appeared in the field of his vision, just gripping the weapon in his palm. It's time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They rose from the ground - slowly, carefully. No one has noticed them yet. Before their killers could see what was happening, they were on their feet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"God," said one of the gunmen. In a panic, they began to overcharge, empty cartridge cases falling to the ground. But it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky ran forward and shot a hole in the head of man closest to him. Pieces of brain fell on Joe, who waved his scimitar, and a hand cut off in the elbow flew through the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a roar and total chaos. Andy danced right into the middle, her labrys unmistakably found its target between the flashlight beams. Booker fired his shotgun, and a shower of sparks exploded in a corner - one of the powerful headlights fell to the ground in a spray of pieces of glass and plastic. The sound of firearms bouncing off the concrete walls and grinded their ears, but they continued until the last man in a tactical vest lay on the ground in a pool of blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everyone okay?" Andy asked, looking warily into the shadows.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Both Nicky and Booker confirmed, only Joe looked like he was upset, rolled his mouth, and swallowed empty.</span>
</p><p><span>“</span> <span>Joe? ”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>The last projectile Joe spat on the ground after knocking it out of his throat.</span></p><p>
  <span>"Very pissed off," he replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So- where are the girls?" Nicky asked, looking around the dark room for some more doors.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Andy looked aroun too, but unlike him, she probably didn't look for any doors. She looked up - first into one corner, then into another.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"There have never been any," she said darkly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others also noticed what they were looking at - CCTV. Perfect equipment to capture everything that happened in that underground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"It was a trap," she added, waving her axe and the camera flew to the ground. Nicky knew it was useless - they probably already had what they wanted, they saw them </span>
  <em>
    <span>get up</span>
  </em>
  <span> after they were massacred by gunfire. And they have it recorded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They left as fast as they could. They had no idea what Copley was up to, but Nicky would bet anything that his intention would not be in their favor. Some type of people tried to get them before, not once. Modern technologies have only complicated everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At dawn, they were halfway to Djuba. The clothes they were wearing, the weapons, everything that could link them to the massacre, were buried in the middle of the savannah. They have civil clothes, which was inconspicuous, but which fit perfectly into the streets of a tourist-lure North African city, seemed extremely inappropriate in the desert.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, you can't say Mr. Copley doesn't have a sense of detail," Joe remarked wearily as Nicky buried their bloodied bulletproof vests. "Those baby shoes were a pretty grotesque trick."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I knew it would happen," said Andy, who sat wearily in the distance, her hair sticking to her dirty forehead. "I said that."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"We did the right thing," Nicky tried to reassure her - but he wanted to comfort himself more than her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And what do we get from it, Nicky?" she snapped, "Nothing has changed," she continued, letting go of the emotions that had been suffocating her for a very long time. "The world is getting worse day by day. We can't stop it. "</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I checked him, as always, I ..." Booker said, though no one blamed him. But he was the one who chose the job, even though it was a repeat, which they never did ... they never worked for one person twice. It was a mistake, and Booker was as erroneous as anyone. It just happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everything was right," he added unhappily. "I'm sorry, guys."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky's heart sank at the sight of him - in spite of everything, he was his family, he had a bad time and now everyone is paying for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They know who we are," Andy said the bare truth, which everyone had avoided to look into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> " We have to find Copley, "she pressed her lips." We have to stop him, whatever he wants. ”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"And then what?" Booker spoke again.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Then nothing. The world can burn for all I care, ”she said flatly, covering the last pile of stones on the grave of their belongings and taking a backpack and an axe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>" I quit."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A freight train from Djuba was rushed north, across the desert, headed for Aswan, Egypt. The wagons were empty, so there was no danger of being attacked by terrorist cells on their way. In one of them, smelling of cattle and moldy grain, heated by the desert sun to an almost unbearable temperature, four people were resting in dusty clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe slumbered, his hand slung over Nicky, huddled in his arms in embryo position. They had not slept for three days until they managed to get in the train, and now they were exhausted and weak from starvation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before anything else, he caught Nicky's half-asleep sigh and deep breath ... perhaps a nightmare, Joe thought, but then he saw it too</span>
  <em>
    <span>: a sharp dagger, blood pouring from her throat, with which life escaped, oh-my-god-i´m-dying-right-now, no! ...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They all woke up as one man - they all had the same dream. About a woman who has just died…</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Woman, black, I saw a uniform, a name tag ..." Booker shook his head, trying to remember.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, Free..Free -</span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Joe confirmed, pulling his notebook and pencil from his backpack, immediately began to sketch so that the image would not be lost in his memory.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Dust, desert landscape, red clay houses," Nicky added.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"There was a doctor, they carried her-"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Do you think they were allies, or-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That knife, the Pashtun </span>
  <em>
    <span>pesh kabz</span>
  </em>
  <span>, ”Nicky added, so it could be the Middle East. He had a good memory for details. Joe wildly scribbled with the pencil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She died. I felt it." Booker said.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Finally, Andy spoke, still silent.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She’s a Marine. Combat or nearcombat duty.Afghanistan. ”she shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's been over two hundred years." she added. She was right - the last was Booker, the youngest of them. Until now. " Why now?" she asked unhappily, but it was probably just a rhetorical question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky was able to tune in to the current situation like a gyroscope, he was a fatalist by nature, while the others went crazy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everything is happened for a reason, boss."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"We have to find her," Joe said as he finished the picture and looked at it. She was young, scared to death. And so terribly alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ No,we stick to the plan, find Copley, ”Booker insisted. Joe didn't understand him - what had he forgotten, how did he feel until they found him? Was despair itself, and now he's telling them to leave this woman to their own destiny?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we leave her alone? Vulnerable? "</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"We are vulnerable, they have exposed us," Booker continued, shaking his head.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"But not like her," Nicky was at Joe´s side. "Don't tell me you don't remember what it was like." There was a threat in his voice, he spoke aloud what Joe thought. "Wherever she is, she is confused, scared. And she is more alone than ever before. We all remember what it was like- ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he spoke directly to Andy. Dear Nicolò, always wearing a heart on his sleeve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She needs us," he concluded, and everyone understood that he was right. Booker snorted, and Andy kicked angrily in the crate at his feet, but then stood up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm going to pick her up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Come on, boss-" Booker tried to hold her back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If we dream about her, she also has dreams about us. In the end, it would lead her to us anyway, ”she tossed her backpack onto her back, determined to fulfill her plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And we have to do what in the meantime?" Booker asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Go to France, to Charlie´s safehouse.I meet you there. And find Copley. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe finished his last lines with a pencil, ripped a letter with a picture from his notebook, and he could only hope that it was a faithful image of the new one.He handed it to Andy.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>" It's just a baby, ”she pressed her lips and hid the picture in her pocket. Then she opened the sliding door of the wagon with metal rattled sound, and dust and sun blinded them. Without a farewell, Andy jumped out and was gone. The train continued to north.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The night fell as they crossed the borders of Egypt, but there still we a few miles ahead. But no one wanted to sleep anymore, they knew it would only bring more dreams - none of them wanted to experience the anxiety the woman might be struggling at the moment - the incomprehensibility of being alive, even though she knew for sure she had died. She has died, and yet she continues to breathe. Not to mention the situation on the base. Soldiers must have had much less privacy today than they used to, Joe thought. In the days when he was just an ordinary soldier, it was enough to go into the desert, if he wanted to be alone and if he died, no one researched it. Death was much more natural, much closer. Now everyone was dissecting in it and wanted to know why and how…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Would you like?" Booker pulled out a bottle of illegal home made arrack, which he apparently stole at a market in Djuba.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want to go blind?" Nicky asked automatically, not even looking up from the book. Booker had already been drunk by something from his hipflask. Now probably empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"As if it helps," Booker replied sarcastically, opening an unmarked bottle. The brandy had a sharp smell and the unattractive color of sheep's urine, but he drank it anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, it's not Scotch ..." he remarked, coughing, as liqueur burned his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Since when you've been drinking Scotch," Joe asked. "Isn't that against your beliefs?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Booker sometimes let himself be torn down by his French nationalism, from which he had not  grown up yet. He drank mostly cognac or anise-scented pastis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The last time I tasted it, I quite liked it, ”he grinned, and Joe thought in the dark that he was glancing at Nicky, who was avoiding his eyes. Was that a private joke?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"What is happening?" Joe stood with his hands on his hips. Nicky was immediately on his feet, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You didn't tell him?" Booker asked, and drank again, smiling in disbelief. "And I thought, how calm he is."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky closed his eyes and shook his head.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Why are you doing this, Booker? And stop drinking, ”he snatched the bottle from his hand. Some alcohol spilled on the dirty floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's going on, what's he talking about, Nicky?" Joe demanded an  answer, and he hated what it sounded like. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Like a jealous wife.</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Booker showed up in Edinburgh for Christmas. He didn't want to be alone, and neither did I. "</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe looked at Booker, but he still measuring Nicky with a defiant look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I drank a little and had a bad dream at night," he added slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You were drunk," Nicky said. "You did not guarantee your actions and I forgave you. I thought we left it behind. Nothing happened, so why are you pulling it out now? ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If nothing happened, why didn't you tell him?" Booker nodded rudely at Joe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck are you talking about?" Joe exploded.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I kissed him," Booker shrugged, taking a step toward Nicky and taking a bottle of arack from his hand.  "Fortunately, he managed to push me away while I managed to do more," he smiled ostentatiously at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Joe about a second to get the idea in his head. He grabbed a scimitar and before Nicky could even shout </span>
  <em>
    <span>NO!</span>
  </em>
  <span> he cut it down Booker's throat. Blood spilled to the ceiling, Booker fell to his knees, the bottle rolling on the floor to the other end of the wagon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment there was nothing but rumble of wheels on the rails. Joe was blinded by anger, Booker's blood dripping from his weapon. It will take a while for him to wake up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ When </span>
  <em>
    <span>-the fuck-</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you want to tell me this? ” he turned to Nicky, who raised his hands defensively. As if he could hurt him! Even in the worst dream… But he has already done it. And not once. But now his hatred had a completely different flavor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>" It all happened in about three seconds and he apologized, it was nothing. I didn't want to bring strife between us again, not before the mission ... "he explained calmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe shook his head in disbelief and ran a hand over his face. He realized what they were talking about that time in the hotel in Marrakesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't believe it," he said.” Do you know what could have happened to you? What could he do to you? Something he couldn't erase for the rest of our miserable lives... ” his voice broke.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Nicky shook his head, walked closer to him, took the wrist of his hand, which was still gripping the sword, and pushed it sideways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on, it's gone. Nothing happened ... it's just Booker, ”he whispered, hugging Joe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We have a job and we have to stick together, remember?" he added as he pulled away, still clutching Joe's shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I swear, if he ..." Joe hissed, but Booker was already woke up on the floor. Joe glared at him. One of the few benefits of death was that it washed out all the alcohol from the body. Booker was sober as a child again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jesus ... I'm sorry, Joe," he snorted, his hand reaching for his neck. "I exaggerated, forgive me guys." Completely different. Well, personality disorder - we haven't had that yet here, Joe thought venomously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky just nodded and went to sit in his corner. With all his will, Joe slipped his sword into his leather sheath, though he'd rather cut Booker to pieces, and when he recovered, he would do it again. And again. And again. Until the anger passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't mention it anymore," he told him warningly, sitting down next to Nicky. He was right, they had a job. They had to find Copley and find out what he was thinking about. When Andy returns - even with a newbie - everything must be ready. When they deal with the problem, he won't even want to see Booker for a few years. Their future was uncertain - and Joe was a happy man to see at Nicky in it. The others were not so lucky. The rest of the train journey was in freezing silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They knew it would take some time for Andy to find the young one, so they decided that if they could, they wouldn't fly, because it was already quite dangerous - if Copley had the experience of a former CIA agent and money from ´private sector´, at any European airport it would probably be a group of people waiting for them get off the plane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They managed to Alexandria without any problems, and there they planned to board a ferry to Venice. It was also reasonable to get a car here - they were much cheaper, even though they were basically wrecks stolen in Europe and Israel more than a decade ago. They were just looking for a car to get to Paris and then let the devil take it before the police noticed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe tried to keep his tone calm, but he was angry and sad. He stood aboard the ferry, staring at the dark waters of the Mediterranean, sea reflecting the rising moon. He tried not to think about the secret Nicky had- and he tried not to think about how </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> had betrayed Nicky four hundred years ago. Nicky forgave him because - Nicky was basically a saint. Plus, it wasn't Nicky's fault at all - he couldn't blame him for what Booker did. Even so, Joe´s curiosity and emotions tormented him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How did it happen?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried not to think about it, they had a task ahead of him, and he had to cover Booker's back when things were going to be tough - and he also had to rely on the same from Booker. When this all blow over, he can be alone with Nicky for a while. They needed it, and Joe was a fool he didn't know it a year ago. A selfish idiot who could have avoided the current situation if he had been where he belonged - by Nicky's side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In addition, Booker tried - he didn't drink a sip of alcohol all the way to Paris. Apparently he really regretted it, but it didn't make things easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Safe house Charlie was an old gothic church a few miles from Paris, surrounded by a wild forest that no one cared about for decades - more precisely since the airport was built nearby and the noise was unbearable to residents of Goussainville village, so they left long ago. The property became unsaleable - so Booker came to it, and transformed the underground, which was rebuilded from cellars in WW II, into a decent shelter to suit their needs. It was basically a small fortress with a living area and a warehouse of weapons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They arrived at about five in the afternoon, and before Nicky set out to prepare dinner - </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, how Joe's just missed Nicky's dinners!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Andy called from her disposable cell phone. Everything supposedly went smoothly and Nile, the new one, was on her way with Andy. They could be here tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ate a simple meal, and Booker opened the computer to look anything about Copley. They had little time, and the more they lingered, the more likely he was to go after them and not the opposite. Nicky cleaned up the table and said he was going for a walk - he did it often when there was an opportunity, he liked to walk around in the evening, which had a dual function - he cleared his head and kept control of what was happening in the immediate vicinity of the shelter. Joe watched some TV nonsense for about an hour. Apart from the tension caused by Booker affair, he didn't feel safe. Something was directly threatening them - and he hadn't experienced something like that in a very long time. He couldn't do anything about it. When he was completely bored with the sports broadcast and Booker's dating on the keyboard, he got up and decided to walk outside as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went upstairs - from the underground to the church, there was silence ... </span>
  <em>
    <span>like in a church</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And the same cold. He remembered the time he had first visited temple of Nicky´s faith – it was in Ravenna. That church there was old, with rough walls and small windows. It was not too different from mosques. Joe was always amazed at how in the following centuries the catholic church began to rage with imagination in terms of architecture - tall towers, white marble, stained glass windows and statues of saints looking benevolently on sinners. Joe saw Nicky lose reliance in the organization of his church fairly quickly. The first stone fell from the wall when he fell in love with Yusuf - his enemy. Not that it would do without crisis, cry and questions </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, why you do this to me?</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Joe experienced it the same way. Most of what was in the holy books were just lies and fabrications. But Nicky never lost his faith. He believed in good, he had something to hold on, when life became unbearable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another plane flew over the roof of the church, so he didn't hear him coming.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Don't say you began to believe in my God," said someone behind him. Joe turned around with a smirk. Nicky stood in the doorway, slammed shut heavy door behind him and folded his arms across his chest.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"According to him, is vanity still a sin?" asked Joe. "Then I'm probably not ready for that yet," he said gloomily pointed at the mirror. "I'm too handsome."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Nicky laughed - a pleasant, familiar sound in the silence of this dusty room. He took a few steps toward him. They had not been alone together since that morning in Marrakesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I agree," he said softly, touching Joe's bearded chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nicky," Joe began, but didn't know how to proceed.  He wanted to tell Nicky how sorry he was that he had left him a year ago, just to go as a fool to graze sheep somewhere at the end of the world. Did the poor boy have to fall in love with him so Joe could realize who the hell is love of his life? He was an idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shhh," Nicky put his fingers on Joe´s lips, as if he knew what was going on in his mind. He leaned over and kissed him, the fingers of his right hand slipping from his face onto neck and into the places where it turned into a shoulder. It was a pretty innocent kiss, Nicky probably just wanted to comfort him, but Joe suddenly knew he wanted more, he needed more - passion came out of his throat like hot lava.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had Nicky's face in his hands, tongue penetrating his mouth, luring him to his side of the river called Desire. He didn't even notice, and as they took a few steps, Nicky slammed his hip into the old table and it creaked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe pulled away for a moment - Nicky's eyes were in dark, grey as the moon in clouds. Joe knelt in front of him, trying to move slowly, even though he was already basically insane.</span>
</p><p><span>He take the laces on Nicky's shoes and ceremoniously untied them, one by one.</span><span>He stood up again. He didn't hold on to the T-shirt, he ripped open his belt and took off his pants.</span> <span>Nicky was obedient as a schoolboy. Then Joe grabbed him by the hips and dropped him on the dusty table. It was excitingly blasphemous to fuck </span><em><span>A warrior of God</span></em><span> here, at a place where priests of his faith were preparing for the Mass.</span></p><p>
  <span>But Nicky didn't seem to mind. Joe spat in his palm and gripped Nicky's erect cock. There was a deep throat sigh, his lover leaning back. Joe eagerly pulled down his pants and Nicky wrapped his bare legs around his lovers hips. Joe´s  cock touched his testicles,they both have goosebumps from cold. Joe bent down, ran his palms over Nicky's ribs under his shirt, and kissed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yusuf-</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Nicky whispered shakily, a puff of breath rising from his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe took a small glass vial filled with oil from his pocket, poured some on his fingers, and rubbed his palms in effort to warm the liquid a little. He touched Nicky's hole and he shivered, but  didn't move away - for a moment the oil was warmed to body temperature by friction, and Joe's fingers easily slipped inside. Nicky's head fell back again and Joe had a view of his beautiful pale neck, which glowed in the dark. He slid his hand over the oil from his cock as well, waiting impatiently between Nicky's legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“May I, my friend?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “  asked Joe in zeneize. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky raised his head and nodded, his eyes like molten silver.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>" Always.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe's hands gripped Nicky´s thighs as he penetrated him. There was a rumble as Nicky fell back on his back, the desire overpowering him, and he touched his own cock, which was desperately towering up, begging for attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe penetrated the wonderful warmth, his breath condensing into white clouds in front of his eyes, drop of sweat running down his temple. Finally, they were one body, no matter what happened ... no one would take this from them. Nicky belonged to him, as he had belonged to Nicky until the end of their long days. He did not live until he met him. They taught him to love the sun under which he was born, and no one told him how beautiful the cold moon was. If there was any good in the world, he was happy to taste it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yusuf, ”Nicky whispered between moans, his body tensing like a bow - his hand made three more firm movements and the milky ejaculate landed where he hurriedly rolled up his T-shirt. That pushed Joe's gaze into the void, erasing all his barren thoughts, and he gripped Nicky's hips tightly - the last time he pushed in and felt a amazing relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finished, Joe found that the table had been moved about a meter - strangely, Joe didn't notice the creaking at all, all he had in his head was just Nicky's body, magnificently laid out in front of him as the best feast. He smirked at him as he put on his pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think we made a lot of noise,"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"You mean more than a plane?" Nicky replied, fastening his belt and looking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Definitely—" Joe said confidently, shoving edge of his shirt into pants.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"You're a terrible man."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Am I the one who was fucked in the church?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The answer was loud laughter, Italian swearing, and a punch to the back.  </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Exactly as expected, Andy showed up the next day evening - she brought a young dark-skinned woman with her. Her name is Nile Freeman, American. Joe saw in her gaze the same fear and anxiety which would have taken </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> courage. She regrets it - she is not even thirty years old, eternity robbed her of youth prematurely. As usual, Nicky prepares dinner again - and Nile sits down at the table with them for the first time, taking Andy's place. They exchange curious glances - poor yougling, they obviously don't know what to think. Nicky smiles encouragingly at her a few times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So - are you the good guys or the bad guys?" she finally asks a question that runs after her mind. Andy has never been good at raising, she has always been incredibly stingy on the word – the answers she has given to Nile are probably not enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe smirks. "It depends on the century."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky leans back. "We're fighting for what we think is right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy walks around like a restless lioness in a cage. Something bothers her. Nile glares at her.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Why did I see you in a dream?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"We have these dreams about each other. Until we meet, ”Joe explains.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Why?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Joe inhales, considering what to answer, but Nicky is faster this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I believe it’s because we… we’re meant to find each other. It’s like destiny.," he replies, looking at Joe. Then he turns his gaze back to Nile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ No, more like misery loves company, ” Booker says sarcastically, and Joe smiled, despite his will. Nile turns to Andy, who is leaning against the sink, eating pieces of stew from a bowl. She is curious about her opinion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ What he said, “ she nods with his mouth full of stew and points at Booker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ It used to take years to track a new one. Booker was the last. 1812.” continues Nicky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile turns his eyes to Booker, who is drinking wine from his glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No way," she shakes her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Yeah, I died </span>
  <span>fighting with Napoleon.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So—" Nile frowns at Nicky "- are you even older?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a moment of silence, Andy move his chair and settling to Joe's left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>„Nicky and I met in the Crusades.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crusades ?!" Nile's voice disappears at the end of the sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ The love of my life was of the people I’ve been taught to hate.,” Nicky points at Joe, who repays him with an inconspicuous blink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We killed each other.“ Joe chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Many times," adds Nicky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Booker chuckles into the wine. Even Andy shows one of her rare smiles , drawing Nile's attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're the oldest, ”he says, and it's not a question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How old?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe folds his arms across his chest, also curious about the answer. Andy has been avoiding questions about his age since he knew her. But Nile has the puppy's curiosity and intransigence.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>" Too old. ”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"So we ... we'll never die?" she asks and seems lost.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Nothing that lives lives forever," Andy replies, and there is hope in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But you said, were immortal…"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I know what I said," Andy says bitterly. "And we mostly are, but we can die.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe noticed that Andy's gaze blurred, focusing on the past, the ages that had passed long before he was born.</span>
</p><p><span>“ One of us did . He was a warrior, just like us. A long time ago. One day your wounds just don’t heal up anymore, and..“</span> <span>she exhaled and leaned against the table.. “We don’t know when or why."</span></p><p>
  <span>Heavy silence. Joe knew Andy was waiting for that moment of merciful death, and Booker was looking forward to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So if we can die ... why did you shoot me?" Nile asked. So the meeting wasn´t in pink shades.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You could have killed me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're too young," Andy grins sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another plane flies over their heads and the empty plates and glasses on the table vibrate faintly. Nile doesn't seem to have any more questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You have something to think about," Nicky said after a moment. "And you should rest. Come on, I'll show you. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Nile leaves with him, Andy sighs and looks at Joe as if asking for his advice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She wants to talk to his family."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That’s not gonna help her," Booker replies.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Andy opens a half-empty  bottle of </span>
  <em>
    <span>ouzo </span>
  </em>
  <span> and pours a good dose into the mug.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"You tell her that," she tells Booker, like an exhausted woman who shares her worries about teens with her husband.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that night, as they sleep under their ragged sleeping bags in beds that have experienced the French Revolution, undisturbed by the sound of rattling glass door panels, there was a woman's scream suddenly. A light flashes, Nicky's hand with a gun flies out from under the pillow like a snake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Christ, what's going on-" asks  sleepy Booker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe looks around the room, Andy isn't in her bed in the corner, apparently asleep in a chair in the dining room - and yet</span>
  <em>
    <span>, she</span>
  </em>
  <span> never screams like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile is sitting on her bed, her dark skin glistening from sweat, shaking all over her body. Nightmare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," he exhales shakily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Everyone is quiet, so Nicky finally asks the question, always caring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Tell us."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I saw something ... something like when I dreamed about you for the first time," Nile says slowly, trying to remember. I dreamed about a woman locked in an iron coffin… under the sea. She kept… drowning and then coming back to life. She was hammering her bloody fists and knees against the iron. She felt like something insane, something furious. But she kept fighting… and she kept drowning."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky glares at Joe. They knew it would come one day, but no one expected it so soon. Joe knew very well what Nile was talking about. Everyone knew that. He was quite awake, sat on the bed and leaned against the wall, his back wet with sweat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The worst fate…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Her name was Quynh," Nicky said, sitting on the bed, his elbows on his knees.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The first immortal Andy found. They had been alone so long, when she found her… Quynh had given up. Way back, it was her and Andy.  Before me and Nicky, it was just the two of them.“ Joe continued. Nile listened to him with eyes wide open, but Joe wasn't sure if she understood the time that might seem like an eternity to a mortal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ They ran through the world together. Fought thousands of battles side by side. She was a pit viper in a fight.,” Joe brought to life memories he had long since forgotten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “ They were in England, freeing so called heretics from the witch trials. But then, Andy and Quynh, they were accused of witchcraft themselves, and they were trapped and caught. When they didn’t die, it proved their case, and they got sentenced again and again.,” Nicky continued. "So they decided to split them forever because they were too strong together. They locked Quynh in the iron coffin and threw her into the sea. "</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe felt almost sick when he imagined that the same fate would befall Nicky. He took a deep breath. Suddenly it had an unpleasant taste of bad omen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"After Andy escaped, we spent decades searching for her or anyone on that ship who could tell us where she was cast off. We never found her. Andy lived with that guilt ever since, she blames herself for Quynh’s fate.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy stood in the doorway. She had an unreadable expression in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why are you blaming yourself?" Nile asked, youthful naivete.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I lost a soldier, ”Andy replied, but Joe knew there were no words to express her loss, the pain, and the suffering she had experienced every day ever since.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I feel her pain, her anger," Nile said, unaware of how much Andy was hurting. Everyone felt it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>„She´s crazy.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Over 500 years in a box… at the bottom of the ocean… would make anyone insane,“ said Joe.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>„That’s the reason why we dread capture. Spend eternity in a cage,“ adds Nicky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another horror brought by immortality. Nile didn't say anything, just grabbed her jacket, got up, and walked out the door past Andy. She sighed and followed Nile. She also probably didn't imagine that this youngling would be exposed to these things so soon.</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The others knew they wouldn't get much sleep that night.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He heard a distant rumble. It didn't stop, it didn't move away or approach, so it wasn't an airplane over the church... isn't he sleeping? The smell of weapon grease and blood  tickled his nose. Nile had a dream, maybe she infected them with her nightmare. He was reading in the kitchen, maybe napped, and then ... he remembered the explosion, the dazzling flash. And then – just </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nicolò ... Nico wake up</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Yusuf's voice. It called him to the light from the merciful darkness. So he is here, Yusuf is here, everything is fine, and the pain will pass in a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Quiet," a harsh voice in English.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you gonna do? Kill me?" Joe barks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices are sharper, as if you have tuned in to the right frequency on the radio. The floor vibrates, he hears the engine…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nicolò, wake up ..." a worried voice in his native language comes again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm here, I'm here ..." Nicky replies, following an instinct to reassure Joe. "Wherever here is ..." He opens his eyes and looks around. Joe is sitting next to him. They are surrounded by about a dozen armed men. They both have handcuffs on their hands, chains connected to the same on the legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"In an armored van," Joe replies. "They used gas."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I told you to shut up!" growls a man who has tried to silence Joe before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just want to know if he's okay," Joe tries to keep his tone calm, not to irritate that man unnecessarily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that's nice. Is he your boyfriend? “ The gunman smirks and the others chuckle obediently. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no, the old song again, as if it wasn't enough to catch them like animals.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nicky knew from experience that men in this high-masculine jobs are the worst in these cases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're just a child," Joe replies, his voice surprisingly clear</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, don't make it worse, please ...</span>
  </em>
  <span>Nicky's praying in silence, but it's too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“  An infant. Your mocking is thus infantile. He’s not my boyfriend. This man is more to me than you can dream. He’s the moon when I’m lost in darkness and warmth when I shiver in cold. And his kiss still thrills me, even after a millennia. His heart overflows with the kindness of which this world is not worthy of. I love this man beyond measure and reason. He’s not my boyfriend.“ Joe finishes and looks Nicky straight in the eye.  He’s all and he’s more."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You´re incurable romantic," Nicky replied with a crooked smile, and it's like a hint - Joe leans over and kisses him, desperate as if it's the last time. Nicky feels a smile in the kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a moment of silence in the van, but after that the men grab Nicky and Joe to tear them apart. They beat them, and when they lie on the rattled floor next to each other again, Nicky secretly smiles at Joe, who is bruised under his eye.Nicky´s teeth covered in blood, but he nods appreciatively.</span>
</p><p><span><br/></span><span>"</span> <span>That's what you made up while I was unconscious?"</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Joe pretends to blush.</span></p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When the van, whose driver apparently didn't notice anything, arrives at its destination after an hour, Joe and Nicky are sitting in the cargo space, his hands still tied and a dozen unconscious bodies in tactical clothing rolling around them. The masquerade of weak faggots bored them after fifteen minutes, and now they were wondering who was behind it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the door opened, they were not surprised to see Copley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don’t suppose it would be possible to get these chains off of us?" Nicky asks politely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were at the airport, they saw a small hangar and a plane that certainly did not serve in  public airlines. About twenty guns aimed at them from the landing area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Get ’em out! Get ’em out! Get ’em on the plane now!“ ordered a man, about two meters tall, who was visible only with his eyes. Like those in the van, he was armed to the teeth. As if it was for something for them…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I guess not, Nicky," Joe replied, but they had already been dragged out of the car and driven to the blue-yellow plane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ We are usually a better judge of character.,” Nicky noted as they passed Copley” I suppose you are taking us to the person who paid for your betrayal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nice plane," Joe added, blood still running down his face as they climbed the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There's a TV, Joe!" Nicky announced happily as he entered the luxury. Leather everywhere and real mahogany, a decent staff who avoid to meet their eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And champagne?" Joe asked, when he bumped into him in the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Booker, Andy, and Nile weren't there, that´s was a good sign. They didn't get them. There was no point in looking worried, they had learned that long ago. The joke will drive everyone out of murderous intentions. But inside they were scared - if someone put in such a huge effort and resources to get them, they really </span>
  <em>
    <span>want them</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and that was definitely not a good sign. The plane took off and when it had stabilized at the required height, Nicky noticed that they had left the fading sky of the east behind them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, the place of landing was probably no secret - neat front gardens and terraced buildings, ugly morning like only Britain can have. No one put a black bag on their heads, apparently no one cared about their knowledge of where they were. They won't escape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pulled them from the plane back into the van without windows. They drove for about two hours, often standing, and the surrounding muffled noise told them they would be in a big city. From the car they drove them in a side street closed by tall towers, and through an armored (?) door. These have only financial institutes </span>
  <em>
    <span>or ...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky saw the name "Merrick" on several brass plates, but that name doesn´t ring any bells... they weren't in Britain for over thirty years, not counting his recent stay in Scotland. The building was glass and steel and the most modern security technology. They drove them into the elevator, where they were surrounded by the entire armed suite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the elevator clicked decently, the door opened and they found themselves in a private penthouse - the view was breathtaking. They were in London, </span>
  <em>
    <span>surprisingly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The apartment was not cozy, as if it was furnished by sociopath, all the shiny surface, white glass... </span>
  <em>
    <span> ah, here he comes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A young man in his early thirties walked up to them, but he already had the hungry and cruel look that Nicky had last seen in the Medici family. He looked like an overgrown schoolboy, wearing an expensive jacket and shirt, but apparently to show how much he had done at a young age, a hooded sweatshirt peeked out at the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Ah! Gentlemen, welcome, “ he threw up his hands in a false gesture and smiled at them like a wolf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ I am truly honored to meet you.Together, we shall do such things.” he added pompously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ What they are yet, I know not, but they shall be the terrors of the Earth,“ he grinned and spread his hands like claws. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Or, um, rather the saviors!” he added, and Nicky wasn't sure where this man went to school — either Oxford or some dubious course for amateur actors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“King Lear?” young man asked when they did not respond appropriately to his introduction. “Shakespeare?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Probably the second option, Nicky thought, and they looked at each other with Joe</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can we put those handcuffs down? ” he turned to the hulk, which apparently served as his personal footstool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm afraid not, sir."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least ten weapons were still aimed at them, but they probably didn't want to risk anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>" My apologies. Let’s get off on the right foot, shall we?" The young man turned to them again, as if the menial had said nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>" I’m Steven Merrick, youngest CEO in pharma," he told them proudly. Apparently he was preparing for a longer speech.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our work here is all about balance. How do we push the scientific frontiers whilst also turning a little profit?“ he began excitedly, but made a mistake - he stepped too close to Joe, apparently thinking he looked like the stupider of the two of them. Nicky thought he had to remember it so he could poke it later to tease, but Joe didn't miss the opportunity and smashed Merick's nose with his forehead in a single motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tall man jumped up, aiming a revolver between Joe's eyes, meanwhile others helped the yougest CEO in pharma from the floor. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Idiot</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There’s your balance, asshole,"growled Joe and received a punch into the stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mr. Copley provided me with footage of your unique talent" Merrick continued, holding a handkerchief stained with blood to his mouth. Nicky glanced at Copley. Was there </span>
  <em>
    <span>guilt</span>
  </em>
  <span> on his face? The Sudanese catastrophe now seemed terribly distant to Nicky, as if it had happened a century ago and not less than two weeks ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ -but I prefer my evidence to be indisputable,“ Merrick continued, walking toward them again with a bloody smudge under his nose. Something was in his hand…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Nicky could react, Merrick stabbed a mail-opening knife into Joe's back, once, twice, three times - he stabbed him like a lunatic, and blood leaked onto expensive carpet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No!" cried Nicky, trying to free from his captives, but they held him tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merrick stabbed Joe in the shoulders and neck. Joe´s legs suddenly eased, and he hung limply in handcuffs for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mr. Merrick!" Copley said emphatically, stepping forward with a stretched hand to stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that was not necessary. Merrick stared at Joe's neck. The wound closed right in front of their eyes. Even the only woman in the room that Nicky hadn't noticed before, came closer - a gray mouse in white medical coat, but with the same eager expression on her face as her boss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you see," Merrick asked in a low voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nobel Prize," she smiled as a sleepwalker.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"And a fair few quid to boot.“ Merrick grinned cruelly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Joe was lifted to his knees and pushed Nicky down to kneel as well. Joe took the opportunity to lean his forehead against Nicky´s for a second to silently reassure him that he was okay. But Merrick ignored their tenderness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We brought a cancer drug to the market last quarter," he continued, as if no incident had taken place. "It’s already saved hundreds of thousands of lives., Yet, in development, it killed a quarter of a million lab mice," he smiled coldly. Nicky didn't like where all this was heading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ I didn’t ask for their little permissions. I’m not gonna ask for yours.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>„He thinks you’re a mouse, Nicky,” Joe remarked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Yusuf, even in such a situation he did not lose his humor</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>„There’s genetic code inside you which could help every human being on Earth,” Merrick continued after a moment, his eyes gleaming like in a fever. Nicky knew the look - it was just bullshit, not the problems of humanity what interested this man. Only two things evoked such a look- fame or money.</span>
</p><p><span>“ We’re morally obliged to take it.,”</span> <span>said that madman with a touch of fatality.</span></p><p>
  <span>"What?" Joe shouted, but the doctor was already walking to them with two metal tubes, size of a pen, in her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wait, what is it?" Joe defended, and for the first time, Nicky heard the fear he felt in his voice. But before they could do anything, the armed men stuck stun guns under their ribs, sending 500,000 volts to his bodies, and suddenly, they were defenseless as the day they were born. Nicky dimly sensed the doctor's pumps, which obscured his view and a sharp sting in his neck. Then he slipped into merciful darkness. Again.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>* </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He heard Copley through the haze of pain.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"How long will the tests take?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no idea how long he had been half-sitting on that table with the backrest raised, strapped to his wrists and ankles, and listening to the monitor beep regularly to record bodily functions. Over time, it synchronized and stabilized in the same rhythm as Joe's. It was reassuring, only if they not to be thrown out of it with irregular intervals by punctures of long needles, scalpels, and cannulas that caused them pain in the most unlikely places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe had just fallen asleep, exhausted by the pain and a with bloody stain on his side, just where a huge tissue-sampling needle was now penetrating Nicky's ribcage. He gritted his teeth and tried to focus on anything but Dr. Kozak's determination.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Unless we have replicable results," Merrick replied indifferently.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky´s teeth were already clenched, he felt like he would break them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can you feel the wound closing?" his tormentor spoke, as if asking him about fever.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"- But you don't need them for that. You have blood, internal tissue samples, DNA. ” Did he hear concern in Copley's voice? Even if he regrets what he did, it's too late ...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Well. Do you know the concept of proprietary data? ” Merrick replied. "They are a product. They remain under lock and key. We can’t have them strolling back out into the world… into my competitors’ laps."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The needle emerged from Nicky´s body and he felt amazing relief thought was going to pass out.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“ If this takes years, maybe decades, what does it matter to them? If we can unlock their genetic code, the world will be begging us for the key.,” Merrick laughed gloomily and the door slammed somewhere. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation seems to be over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You won't be able to give him what he wants," Nicky told the doctor when he lost the sense that he would vomit as soon as he opened his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>„You think I go too far? ” Kozak replied, watching the fresh sample in the test tube. "Am I unethical?" she asked, but obviously she wasn't too interested in his opinion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would say immoral,” Nicky swallowed. He was so weak he couldn't even keep his head up. His eyelids fell off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It will change the world," Kozak said firmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>„A fine justification.I’ve heard it so many times before.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She seemed at least a little taken aback. She didn't answer, just turned on her heel and marched to her office next to her lab.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe woke at the sound of her shoes, terrified of what new hell they had prepared for him again. When he noticed that she was not coming but leaving, he exhaled in relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as I like watching you sleep,“ Nicky told him “ I’m glad you’re awake.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>„Bed head?” Joe asked wearily, laugh wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Nicely tousled,” Nicky replied, peace and warmth in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their laughter echoed off the stainless polished surfaces and disinfected the stinking empty walls without windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Do you know, I was thinking about Malta.,” Nicky said after a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What time in Malta?" Joe asked, as always incomprehensible, but maybe he was just playing it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It could not be forgotten</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky turned to him meaningfully</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that time in </span>
  </em>
  <span>Malta," Joe smiled broadly, revealing a row of white teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We should go back there...“ Nicky added, sounding sadder than he intended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That would be nice."</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They tried to stay in a good mood almost desperately. The only thing they knew for sure was that the staff was trying to follow a natural human biorhythm and let them rest for more than eight hours at night. Nicky thought it was the bright side of this experiment, he hadn't slept so well, he guess - </span>
  <em>
    <span>i about ten years</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He usually had a light sleep, ready to jump out at any time as soon as something went wrong. Now it was not necessary - the pain and suffering were precisely planned, so far they had never fallen in the middle of the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But dark thoughts came just then – in the night.  His stay in Edinburgh and Christmas often came on his mind. Until now, he had avoided the memories as best as he could, arguing in himself that they were busy with work, but now he had no excuse. He had to lie motionless for hours, squirming. He loved Joe, he wasn't whole without him. But then, on that lonely Christmas Eve, Booker managed to arouse in him a desire and an idea of </span>
  <em>
    <span>what it would be like</span>
  </em>
  <span> ... he felt like a heretic who desecrated his love for Joe, who now slept peacefully in the darkness next to him. He hated himself for remembering Booker's scent, his taste, and his touch. He was furious when he imagined how pleasant it was. And he knew that Booker knew it, and that made it even worse. He apologized to Nicky, and he apologized to Joe, but it didn't show in his eyes - rather, Nicky saw there something like a decision, a painful awareness</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was afraid that Booker would do something, something that not only he would regret, but others would pay for it too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it didn't matter for now. He and Joe were here, and they could only hope that the others were safe - though, as he knew them, they were desperately looking for them at the moment. His heart sank even more - they would never get here without being caught. And then what?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was this an eternity that destiny had prepared for them? He had spent nearly a thousand years with Joe in heaven, and now he was to be thrown into this timeless hell, where they would be dissected until nothing was left of them, just desperate mad debris? Will they end up like Quynh?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What is going on?" it came from the darkness beside him. "I can hear you swallowing empty. I should probably give that mouth some purpose again, ”Joe said, and the monitor beep that indicated his pulse quickened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sure, and the doctor will watch and write everything down carefully," Nicky replied quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's bothering you?" Joe asked, more seriously now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if we stay here forever? And why didn't they take Booker too? He was with us then that evening, if I remember correctly ... ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They probably thought he wouldn't recover. They threw a grenade there, in an instant he had intestines on the floor, "Joe explained. Nicky didn't remember that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good for him," Joe added venomously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky turned his head to face him, but saw only his profile, illuminated by the dim green light of the monitor. "It´s still bothering you?" He was not surprised about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And it won't just stop," Joe replied stubbornly. "When I imagine it, it's going to tear me apart by fury…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You shouldn't get mad at him..</span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Nicky said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"What do you mean?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please forgive me, Yusuf. I ... I wanted him then, too. Nothing happened, but - it keeps bothering me. " He didn't even know how it came out of his mouth. The darkness helped him, he was sure he wouldn't be able to say it in daylight. Suddenly he realized why it was always so dark in the confessional.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was very lonely, I missed you and ... I don't know. I am sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence. Joe stared at the ceiling, as if thinking about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Joe?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a burst of laughter. A sound you wouldn't expect in a lab at night.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Joe ?!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>santo Nicolò</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Joe still laughed. "I love you, you fool."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you hear what I just said? I almost slept with Booker! ” Nicky assured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And are you listening to yourself, Nicky?" Joe didn't stop teasing him. "I cheated on you, I thought I'd leave you, remember? As an idiot, a young monk drove me crazy and you forgave me, you took me back, you didn't even blink, and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span>, ever in those four hundred years threw it in my face. And now you're being in sackcloth and ashes for something that's completely natural? As you once told me?  </span>
  <em>
    <span>For Allah</span>
  </em>
  <span>— ” he snorted contemptuously. "Do you remember what you told me besides that ? When I betrayed you so badly? ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You said you wanted me to be happy. You didn't say how much you loved me, you didn't ask me not to do it. I was such a fool ... ”Joe shook his head again, then turned her back to Nicky. "And I want the same for you. For you to be happy. Even if it meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> Booker, if it pleases you. I am incredibly lucky. More than I deserve. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nicky swallowed again. He was moved.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Joe ..."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Do not say anything. We are together, albeit in this shit game. But together. ”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>* </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Another three days passed. They surpassed everything that Dr. Kozak and her team could come up with on them. A sample from every organ, from every insignificant tissue in their bodies, from every body fluid. They have not dared to experiment in killing them, yet. What if they could do it? Nicky admired their optimism. The further it gets, the blacker Joe´s humor was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> On the third day, their fears came true. The door flew open and Merrick's slaves dragged Booker and Andy, who was still bleeding from a side injury. They had to do it to her recently…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What has happened?"</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>"She´s not healing ..." Booker said darkly. He didn't even have a scratch and was being tied to the bed farthest from Nicky and Joe. Andy was placed between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I killed her," he said hoarsely, looking measured to the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dr. Kozak picked up Andy's blood-soaked T-shirt - she had an ugly gunshot wound. Booker was right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We have to stop the bleeding," the doctor said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Keep her alive at all costs," added Merrick, who had just appeared at the door. "Don’t you see? Between Sudan and now, something’s changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What is the psychopath talking about?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Find out what.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This stabilizes her," the doctor hung a clear solution bag beside Andy's bed and inserted in her arm a cannula. "This will stabilize her, but I have to stitch her and give her antibiotics.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They swayed around Andy like ants around a dead mouse. So it finally happened ... Andy, who was in the world longer than anyone else. However, she did not deserve this, not in captivity. But Nicky was glad to be with her if that happened…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ All things die,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” Merrick asked, looking as if he were being addressed by a guinea pig.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everything has to die, Mr. Merrick," he repeated firmly. "The only reason we haven’t… is that it’s not our time yet.. If it’s now Andromache’s, nothing you can do will stop it.. "</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ You’d be surprised by what my products can do,“ Merrick replied quietly, as if Nicky had uttered the worst insult. He stood menacingly directly above him.</span>
</p><p><span>„I will carve slices off you for years to get what I want. Your time is coming,“</span> <span>he smiled ugly.</span></p><p>
  <span>"As is yours," Nicky replied calmly. Merrick was just a kid, nothing else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Young man turned angrily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm expecting results," he shouted , marching out of his lab, followed by his suite of armed slaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Andy ..." Booker addressed her as they were left alone, but she didn't move. She just stared at the ceiling and was silent. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"You selfish piece of shit!" Joe yelled at Booker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Joe, leave it, please-" Nicky tried to calm him down, but he was too angry. The handcuffs cut into his wrists and he yanked the cannula from his hand. The wound closed immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Booker betrayed them - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Booker</span>
  </em>
  <span>, who dared to touch Nicky, Booker, who had put them in the job in Sudan, planned to sell them to Merrick's hands all the time, just to achieve his own purpose. It was no secret that he did not want to be in this world, not to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive </span>
  </em>
  <span> - and he did not hesitate to sacrifice all four to that goal. And Andy - for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Allah</span>
  </em>
  <span>'s sake - Andy may die, here on the lab table as an experimental object, a woman who has fought for thousands of years will eventually die like a dog? He couldn't even express how horribly he felt betrayed and deceived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you know of the weight of all these years alone?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>That filth still dared to oppose him</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>.“ You’re a very pathetic man, Booker..” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ You and Nicky always had each other, right? And all we had…” he turned his eyes to Andy, but she continued to ignore him “- was our grief.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Well, now you have even more” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Joe, that's enough ..." Nicky said. "Andy, where's Nile?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She left before we were caught," she replied quietly. "Now she's on her own."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Joe was terrified by that awful surrender.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dr. Kozak returned, so they fell silent. Joe had never felt so upset. They die. It would take a long time, but there was a real possibility that they would die right here in this lab. Thanks to Booker, whose stupid face he would have to look at. Andy is basically lucky, he was almost jealous of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before he could feel sorry, there was gunfire and rumble somewhere deep inside the building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The armored door beeped as someone used a code on the outside and Nile - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nile!</span>
  </em>
  <span> - burst inside fluent like a sack of potatoes. Someone had hit her in the back shortly before. The doctor was immediately on her feet, looking around and grabbing an injection from the side table, with which she jumped on the Nile. However, she was faster - it slammed the door and sent Kozak to the ground with a single well-aimed punch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Four are at the entrance, another on the way," Nile told them breathlessly, and immediately untied Andy's handcuffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Nile returned, she was already one of them - and their only hope. Andy's hands were free, but she didn't seem to be able to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy!" Nile shook her arms, but then she noticed a bloody T-shirt and a treated wound on Andy´s side. She paused, but pulled a weapon from behind her belt, which put firmly in her Andy´s hand. A silent gesture from a soldier to the commander. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lead us</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Immortal or not. You promised something. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An alarm began to sound the distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I saw what you did," Nile added senselessly, but before Joe could think about it, the door flew open. Nile get out of the way, and Andy fired three shots –they all hit the target.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're back-" Andy replied, staring at the Nile.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Something was going on between the two women, but there was no time to speculate about it. Andy jumped off the table and let Nile untie the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Leave me here," Booker said.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With pleasure, if my opinion mattered here…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"We won't leave anyone here," Nile snapped. Apparently she liked Booker , but the look she gave him revealed that she knew what he had done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's all for the first time. He's nothing but a traitor, ”Joe said, massaging his abraded wrists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There's no time for that now," Andy replied, so Joe didn't argue anymore. Well, if he can, he'll use Booker as a living shield. Nicky looked at him menacingly, as if he knew what Joe was thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We don’t get a say in when it ends. We never have." Andy added, taking another weapon from the dead man on the ground. " But we can control how we live.." She walked over to Booker to untie him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And to be honest, Book, you and I, we’ve been doing a shit job of it.“</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, fuck me, she forgave him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"We stop Merrick here and now or he never stops coming after us."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That convinced him. They armed themselves with what they found at the corpses. It will be hard to get out of here - and almost impossible for Andy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Andy. Are you sure?" Nicky asked, glancing at her wound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It doesn't change anything," she replied firmly. "We walk out of here like always.Together."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was determined and had the same fury in her eyes as when she was convinced she was fighting for the right thing. It had been a long time since Joe had seen that look and it given him courage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bloodshed began right outside the door. Merrick had his own army here, God knows how many men were now heading to their floor. There was no end to them. Nile told them how Copley had helped her - apparently he feel sorry about what he did to them  and that he conspired against Merrick. This betrayal helped them free for a change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nile was a real warrior, her military training did not leave them in the lurch. They headed upstairs - to the top floor of the tower where Merrick's apartment was supposed to be. Apparently he barricaded himself there, because there was no doubt that he knew about them. Maybe they'd better run away, but then it would only be a matter of time before there was another </span>
  <em>
    <span>Copley</span>
  </em>
  <span> who would be happy to sell them to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The numbers of gunmen who fired at them thinned as they stormed into the abandoned offices. They walked through glass corridors, which would instantly turn into shards-filled hell if someone fired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Booker went first - </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least a pinch of pride remained in that man</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Joe thought sourly, but then he added in his mind that he would force him to do so if he hadn't done it himself. Andy was breathing hard, she must have lost a lot of blood, but she silenced Joe with a look, when he wanted to help her. By the time they reached the door of Merrick's apartment, she had taken a fire axe from the wall ... oh what would he pay for his scimitar now, which apparently was left in Goussanville safehouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They agreed to split up - Andy and Nile, who would cover the commander´s back, would go through the front door, Booker and Nicky would try down the fire escape staircase, and Joe would try to get there from the roof. He was all furious when he thought that only Booker would cover Nicky's back, but knows that he was the best at climbing, and if something happened - he repeated in his mind - </span>
  <em>
    <span>they had to complete this mission.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He got to the roof without any problems and he had luck - the roofs are forgotten areas, where the workers leave a lot of material - the same is true in desert shack or in a tower in the middle of the city. Joe even found a safety rope used by people washing windows on the upper floors. It was torn, but the length that remained intact will be enough for him. Otherwise, he would have to rely only on his own muscles, which is not the best idea at a height of two hundred meters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got into the apartment first and broke the glass on the balcony door without any problems. He drew attention to himself, and while he was fighting with the commander- the hulk who liked to hit Nicky, the others appeared. Andy was already bleeding again. There weren't many people in there - where are the others? Where is Merrick?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The elevator is going down!Merrick is getting away!" Nicky shouted from the depths of penthouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll stay with Andy, you go—" Nile called at the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ran down three floors until they realized they could jump into another elevator that didn't go all the way to a private apartment under the roof. It was desperately slow, but they were certainly faster downstairs than if they were running down the stairs. In the hall on the ground floor, they ran out of it, looking desperately - the elevator where Merrick was supposed to be was there, the door was open and it was empty - he could leave here, or get off on any floor, They won't find him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While they could think of what to do next, the rumble of crumpled metal sheets and shattered glass sounded - it sounded like a car accident. They ran outside and noticed a wrecked car that looked like it had been hit by a meteorite. They ran up to it and saw Merrick's corpse, his limbs broken eerily like a wooden puppet. A little further on, Andy's labrys was sticking out of the car. Nile, who was lying on Merrick, was as good as he was, just that she was moving, the broken bones making a disgusting sound as they grew up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He had to outsmart them, send the elevator down ... and start fighting himself the women who stayed up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Nile, are you okay? Where's Andy? ”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she fell out of the window like these two, she would be dead. Joe froze at the thought. They helped the girl out of the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm here," Andy said, who appeared behind them. She could barely walk, but she was smiling and God - it was a great sight.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They jumped into the car where Nile and Copley had arrived and they left.</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>People have already begun to converge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>* </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Joe remembered when this pub was a brand new thing - a small inn between the river and the road. Now it was crouched by an inconspicuous building between much taller houses in a dubious neighborhood. They fell into it when they got rid of the car to decide what to do next. Booker tactfully disappeared outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat down at a table in the corner, overlooking the river from the window. When four pints of ale landed in front of them, Joe finally began to feel a little normal after a research marathon in Dr. Kozak's lab. His heart stopped fibrillation and his strength returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So ... what about Booker?" Nile pulled the subject uncertainly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other three were silent. Joe would have liked to send him to hell, but he was aware of the facts - Booker was part of them, he was like them. Nothing will erase that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you suggest? Andy? ” Nicky asked, and their boss folded his arms across her chest and looked out the window. She certainly understood Booker better than they did, but she also had to deal with newfound mortality. She sighed hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We should take a break from each other for a while," she replied. "Until things cool down."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"For how long?" Nile beeped like a child waiting for an adult judgment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe and Nicky and Andy exchanged glances.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A century," Nicky tried, as if considering what the punishment would be too mild and whether it would not upset Joe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy nodded, even though for her it meant he would never see Booker again. Nile closed herself unhappily and looked out the window. Booker stood on the neglected patio, drinking  alcohol from a large glass. Joe hoped Nile would get over it, because that bastard certainly didn't deserve her affection. At least not now. They will see in a hundred years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was up to Andy to let him know. No one had ever betrayed them before, it was new to her ... or old-new, because betrayal was as common among people as the flu. Once in a while, everyone caught it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So in a hundred years – Joe will be standing here with Nicky and waiting, as Andy wanted, whether Booker shows up or not. He has enough time to think about recent events, enough time to heal what has been hurt. According to Joe, it was a good punishment - he wanted death, but he got something worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so desperate to light his own funeral pyre that he was willing to betray everyone and let them burn in it. Joe could barely imagine what was going on in his head, but he still couldn't forgive him. Nicky will certainly do this task much sooner, and Joe himself will be infected by that mercy. But now - he thought so mischievously that you'd better keep the idea to yourself - Booker gets his </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cien años de soledad</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The book he needed the most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Booker said goodbye to Andy, he had tears in his eyes, as did she. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who knows, maybe he's really sorry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>* </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The wall in Copley's study is full of photos and newspaper clippings - four names are repeated on them, only the dates change. Old ID cards, leaflets. They were always where it was boiling among the nations. Berlin, Cuba, Middle East. They helped the helpless, the weak and the wounded. Unexpectedly, they prevented wars, pandemics, thousands of deaths. They never cared for those they saved, but they continued to live their lives and elevate humanity to a higher level by a few generations. The peace they brought to people had to mature for a few years. It was an astonishing amount of information that Copley could gather. He had been looking for them since his wife died trying to find a cure for death - so he teamed up with Merrick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's the last 150 years. When you think about how old you are, the good you’ve done for humanity becomes exponential. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stared in silence. 150 years of their work, captured in photographs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe this is your </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Andy- ”Nile said, sitting nearby. That the little frog, along with Copley, would find reason in their - </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost eternal</span>
  </em>
  <span> - life? The meaning that escaped them? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy smiled. There was a light in her face that they hadn't seen there for two centuries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It’s nearly impossible to disappear in the world we live in today. There are too many people like you who can bend it to your will. Too many with bad intentions.”she turned to Copley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ We don’t have all the answers, but we do have purpose.“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-” she waved at the repleted wall. “ And you’re going to help us,“ she decided, and the tone of her voice did not allow discussion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ When we leave a footprint in the sand, in the snow, in the ether, you’re going to sweep it. You’re going to protect us from those who want to put us in cages, and you’re gonna help us find those jobs… that are best suited to us.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Copley looked at her with his hands folded, as if making a decision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's not asking," Joe intervened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>„I’d be honored."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>14 km from Valletta, Malta</b> <b><br/><br/></b></p><p><em> One year later </em><br/><br/>The old stone house provided wonderful relief from the summer heat. The old farm, overgrown with actinides and fig trees, was hidden at the foot of a hill, on one of the side roads, far from the hustle of this – now badly overcrowded - island. The facility was Spartan, but neither Nicky nor Joe needed more than a bed and running water. To their surprise, a swimming pool was added here from the last time - primitive, so that Olympic performances couldn´t be performed in it, but excellent if one needed to cool off. They spend most of the days hiding from the world on loungers next to that pool, naked as they were created by God and nights on the roof, where they moved the mattresses so they could make love under the stars. Occasionally they took a car and went to bathe in one of the small bays or to discover taverns where only locals went.</p><p>It had been a year since Nicky had said in front of Joe in that lab that he would like to return here. Memories of this island, as if frozen in times long past, kept it in mind when the pain seemed unbearable. And Joe didn't forget - who knows, maybe he took refuge here as well, when the sharp tools, as long as knitting needles, penetrated his body.</p><p>There was no memory of the pain now - Joe was sleeping on his stomach, book under his head, his body glistening with oil, almost glowing. <em> My private sun </em>, Nicky thought, intoxicated by the heat.</p><p>They spent the whole year working. Andy, stubborn as a bulldog, refused to relinquish her position as commander, the more stubborn the more often someone indicated with any gesture of protection. They were surprised by the feeling, Andy was the most capable of them for millennia, she saved their asses many times. Nile looked up at her, whether she was immortal or not. They became a good two-member team - even now that Copley had literally told them to go somewhere and rest for a while, because he needed time to smooth out the tracks after the last action, the two women were probably training. Nile longed to learn everything Andy knew - about this time they would be at an abandoned airport in Eastern Europe, and Nile would be sitting behind a stick of a scattered wreck from World War II, while Andy would be shouting his advice into Nile´s headphones.</p><p>Booker was often not mentioned - the wound was too fresh, though Nicky asked Copley once or twice if he could tell if he was okay. Nothing more - just a yes or no, but the Frenchman hid well. If he was alone, it must have been much easier for him to disappear.</p><p>During that year, Nicky often asked himself — and occasionally annoyed Joe with it,  if Booker betrayed them because of what had happened between him and Nicky. Despair forces people to do terrible things, and if Nicky's rejection was the last straw…<br/><em> "It seems to me that someone here has a high opinion of oneself </em> ," Joe grinned at this type of question and swept it off the table, possibly say something like: <em> "And what did you want to do? Let him do a blowjob to you? That little bastard would betray us one way or another, don't worry. " </em><br/><br/>It wasn't easy for Joe to forgive Booker, when the debate sometimes turned on him, Joe preferred to leave the room. Nicky hoped it would pass, and he told himself that he had no way of knowing <em> what would happen if ... </em></p><p>"Why don't you sleep," Joe muttered into the pillow.</p><p>"A waste of time," Nicky replied with a smile and crossed his leg over Joe's hairy calf.</p><p>"Says the one who falls asleep under artillery fire," Joe raised his head, then rolled onto his back with the sweet sigh of a man who had been given a morning break after being up all night.</p><p>Nicky moved to his deck chair in a flash and pinned Joe under him, fingers in his tousled hair.</p><p>"What if I bit off your brazen tongue?"</p><p>"You could suffocate with it," Joe replied, lifting his chin confidently, pointing to something completely different. He moved his hips, and Nicky felt he´s as aroused as he was.</p><p>His eyes darkened and he parted his lips, but before Nicky could kiss him, he slipped.<br/><br/></p><p>"Maybe later," smiles mischievously and gets out of bed and away from Nick's reach.<br/>"We'll be late."<br/><br/></p><p>"Where?" Nicky scratched his head, wondering if he had forgotten something.</p><p><br/>"Surprise," Joe blinked at him as he put on his lightweight canvas shirt and a spark appeared in his eye. </p><p><br/>*<br/><br/></p><p>"Can you tell me where we are headed?” Nicky asked as he got out of the car and put on his sunglasses. It was terribly hot and the air was barely breathable, thanks to a heat wave of sirocco that hit the island before yesterday and brought Sahara sand here, which abraded the skin better than sea salt.</p><p>"I know you feel like a fish in water, but we poor Europeans are not built to ..."</p><p>"Don't whine," Joe teased, smiling, and his incredibly white teeth gleamed in the sun.</p><p>They wandered on foot through the narrow streets of Valletta, which were cluttered with tall stone houses, and balconies overhead with flowers dying in the heat. Here and there they saw the azure sea, which glowed in the rays of the sun, on the horizon slowly passing into the same blue cloudless sky. The city had a siesta, the bustle subsided, everyone slept or rested.</p><p>Nicky was not very familiar to the city in these places, the houses were only about three hundred years old. Through narrow streets and stairs, they reached the top of one of the hills on which the city were build, in front of building with baroque decoration that looked like a maecenas palace. There weren't many tourists, and the sign in front of the entrance was aptly apologized for the reduced comfort in the five languages because of the archaeological research.</p><p>Joe nodded to the guard at the entrance and unmistakably turned right behind the wrought-iron gate, where wide stairs led underground. They were suddenly surrounded by a pleasant coolness, delightful on the skin hot from the afternoon sun. There were many crates marked with the Maltese National Museum, shovels and buckets dirty with concrete. It smelled like a construction site.</p><p>They walked down a long corridor, the walls seemed older and older, huge blocks of stone, and the the ground illuminated the yellow light of light bulbs. They came to a door whose fittings and wood looked just as old.<br/><br/>"Well, if you wanted to lock me up forever, you should have talked to Merrick," Nicky folded his arms across his chest.</p><p>Joe just shook his head with a dark smile and opened the door. It was also dark inside - at least that's what Nicky thought at first. Joe flicked the switch on the wall next to the door, and several halogen lights illuminated the basement.</p><p>It was a huge cellar, high romanesque ceilings lost in the shadows above them. He could see  a low wall on the ground, no higher than half a calf - a hint of long-collapsed walls, an imprint of an ancient building on which a palace had been erected. Nicky looked around again, and he finally figured it out.</p><p>"Joe, it's-"</p><p>"The place where we got married," Joe smiled broadly at him.</p><p>Nicky turned again to the vast empty space where the temple once stood under the open sky. He descended the remaining three steps.</p><p>"They discovered it only recently," Joe added. "Fools, they should have asked us."</p><p>Their footsteps echoed into silence and darkness. Joe took Nicky's hand and led him to a temple that no longer existed.</p><p>Once upon a time, centuries ago, Nicky discovered this place. At that time, he still had the last remnants of trust in the church, and it seemed right to do it in a place that seemed sacred to him — though not as much as his love.</p><p>When they were in the imaginary center of the temple, Joe nodded and reached into his pocket. Two rings appeared on his palm. The latter were lost about ten years ago - when Nicky lost his fingers and a  grenade from Joe's tore off left hand.</p><p>"After all these years, words are probably completely useless," Joe began, looking at the two precious metal rings. Then he looked up. "We've been through a lot of shit together."</p><p>Nicky nodded. "Most of it was your fault," he grinned.</p><p>Joe rolled his eyes and at the corners appeared eternal wrinkles he'd have before he met the love.</p><p>"But I'll repeat to you this until death finds us. I love you Nicolò, no matter what happens. I want you to be happy.” With the words Nicky had once said to him and which had helped him in times of crisis, he took one of the rings, put it on Nicky's finger, and pressed the other one into Nicky´s right hand.</p><p>"I will be happy if your heart stays with me until our time will come. I'll be happy to go on the other side with you, ”Nicky replied simply, putting the ring on Joe´s finger and squeezing his hand briefly.</p><p>Their kiss remained hidden in silence and shadows, deep beneath today's world. Somewhere where pain does not reach and where it is possible to relive memories, love without restrictions, accept all mistakes. </p><p> </p><p>When they came out into the daylight again and the sun almost blinded them, Joe grabbed Nicky's hand.</p><p>"Strange, though?"</p><p>"Not at all," Nicky replied. He could feel the weight of the ring on his hand very clearly.<br/><br/>"I think we should give the term <em> that time in Malta </em>a new meaning ," Joe smiled, looking over the roofs of the buildings in the streets that lined down the hill to the harbor.</p><p>"Better than last time?"<br/><br/>"One hundred times better" Joe beamed like the sun he was.<br/><br/></p><p>Unbearably confident bastard.</p>
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